Public Speaking
by Rayless Night
Summary: S5. It would be nice if the Tablet of Stars recorded the name of every individual with a story to tell, but that's not the way it works. Don't fret, this isn't an original character story.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer:_ Suikoden_ is the property of Konami. Rating is for language, violence, and non-explicit sexual themes. Some of the content may be disturbing and/or triggering._

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**Public Speaking**

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1

So what on earth are you doing here?

Come on. I know you're not interested. Why would you be? I hear Lucretia's willing to talk about it. That should be interesting, she practically ran the show. Or even one of the lesser mortals, Lelei or Raja or Dinn or Craig or maybe even Boz has come up with something to write about. Me, I can't tell you anything you're hoping to hear, all the little intimate details of the war, like the panicked thrill of the charge up the bridge to Sol-Falena, or whether the Prince ever accidentally stuck a chopstick up his nose while eating. If I'd been there, nothing would stop me from telling you, but, look at this, I wasn't.

I bet you've never even heard of me, right? Oh, I'm sure you know all of the people around me, but you haven't heard of me. No one seems to, frankly. Well, Donna's heard of me, but no one's heard of Donna. If the history books ever mention me, it'll only be because I've landed someone famous. It's a good thing I don't judge my worth along the same lines as history.

Why am I spouting off these ear-shriveling complaints, you ask? Well, maybe I'm not as bitter as I sound. I'm trying to work on that, to work past my hang-ups. The truth of the matter is that I easily could have toddled off to Ceras Lake if I'd wanted to, taken up my own room at Dawn Castle and gushed forth wisdom like a spring. But I didn't want to. I like to say war's in my blood, but it isn't really. And here I am, yapping about myself and not even giving you my name. No wonder you've never heard of me.

Maybe I'll tell you my name next time.


	2. Chapter 2

2

Shula Valya called me the Southern Jewel when we met, and I laughed and told him _he_ was the Southern Jewel. He's cleverer than he lets on (that ridiculous feathered turban really does throw you off). He has a smart head under that pile of silk fluff, but I was almost dumb-founded at how thoroughly pretty he is. He's prettier than_ I _am. I mean, I've met the prince several times, but Shula's even worse, with his black silk hair and his lily petal skin. Here, men look male, thank the Sun.

Actually, the city, not myself, is traditionally called the Southern Jewel, also the Southern Shield. The second title is in every way more appropriate. Maybe back in the old days it was decadent and affluent, but we've been a city on the defense for centuries, and all our spare money goes to the military. It's been hard for the soldiers to shrug it off in this sudden peace. All these men who have trained all their lives to kill, now at loose ends, all of them such thoroughly good soldiers... I know I'm callous when I think "What a waste."

I never say that in public. I learned from a very young age that public speaking has to be ten steps away from what you're thinking and fifty steps away from what you're feeling.

How'd I learn that? Well, it had something to do with Commander Ferid.


	3. Chapter 3

3

My earliest memories are of just the three of us, our little family world that revolved around me. The outside world -the city and soldiers- revolved around my father, who was my personal slave (pretty much), so I was happy in my position of Center of the Universe. When I learned that there was a queen in Sol Falena and that _she_ actually ran the world, tears couldn't begin to express my disillusionment.

All kids are pretty selfish. Not bad, not evil, the way selfish adults are. Kids are just testing to see how the world reacts to them, and it wasn't my fault the world ended up spoiling me most of the time. My parents had been trying for years to have and keep a child. I have three older brothers, but none lived over a year, and I was born three years after the last died. They're buried in the ancestral cemetery, next to my ancestors three generations back, three little square headstones. I used to lean against them and wish they were alive to play with me. Yeah, the village kids played with me, but we always knew that Father was running things. Whenever any sort of fight broke out among us, someone always accused me of being Father's spy. And we were all younger than ten. You see how paranoia can infest a defending city even down to the children. I tried to coach myself into developing a thick skin. It even worked sometimes.

Besides, I quickly decided that grown-ups were more interesting (except when they were being patronizing -or cruel). When I was seven, I decided that my best friend was going to be a thirty two year old cavalry commander named Rocco. By seven, I'd begun to wander quite a bit, and Father insisted I have some sort of bodyguard (paranoia again), so whenever I wasn't in a crowd or with my parents, Rocco couldn't really escape me. Questions, questions, questions, mostly about horses. If an adult bothered to respect me, I loved him forever.

Take Commander Ferid for example.


	4. Chapter 4

4

Smart royals periodically take a lengthy tour through their dominions. There are two good reasons for this:

1. It makes the monarch accessible to her people so that they can come to her with issues and feel they have a role to play in their government.

2. The monarch takes her entire household with her, and the vassals have to pay every expense, so none of them is ever rich enough to carry out a successful revolt.

Queen Arshtat was the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen. The prince was still a cute, bug-eyed kid, and the Queen wasn't very pregnant with Lymsleia yet, and she sat there in our big brown house, her silver hair glowing, her skin pearly smooth and her eyes as blue and deep as the Feitas. I swear, even Shula Valya wouldn't make as pretty a woman. I just drank her in, all twelve years old, gawky female of me with my too-big feet, too-tall frame and suddenly too-fat body. I was a mess and she was this porcelain white iris. Ever since I saw her, I gave up trying to be prettier than I actually am. Far from hurting my self-esteem, I'm actually quite fond of my face.

She and the Commander were very courteous and uninterested in me, so I just sat over the grand dinner, staring at them. They looked young and happy, as if the coming wars weren't already scratching their claws on the other side of the door. Since Grandfather was away in Stormfist, Father was talking about how he was reluctant to let women fight in his army. It was an issue that had only lately been raised down here; in the rest of Falena, women had been professional fighters for centuries. (If Grand had been here, he would've stopped the discussion cold, royals or no royals.) "Battle is something no one should be inherently suited for. But if someone must fight, let it be the men. It's a sacrifice, not a privilege!"

"True enough," Ferid replied, "but why make the condition one of gender? Can't a woman sacrifice?"

Father leaned forward, earnest, for he has always hated war, yet he leads a military city. "But consider the liabilities. A woman may become pregnant and go to battle not knowing it, or she may be-" He glanced quickly at me, probably wondering if anyone had ever told me about rape, and amended his speech. "Men are simply better suited for these situations. They're stronger, they can cover longer distances faster than women-"

Commander Ferid grinned over his wine glass. I think he viewed my father as weak-willed and enjoyed baiting him a bit. "Really? How so?"

"They can pee standing up," I observed snidely to myself in my thoughts. Then I realized that Father had slewed around in his chair to stare at me; Mother had dropped her salad fork, and it went bouncing across the table to land on the Queen's plate; the porcelain white iris had raised her perfect eyebrows over disapproving eyes; Lady Sialeeds, the Queen's teenaged sister, was covering her mouth with one hand; the prince was asking if it was true girls couldn't pee standing up; and Commander Ferid had snorted into his wine glass and was staring at me as if he'd discovered a rare and wonderful species of platypus.

Oh. Lookit that. I'd said it out loud.

A raw tide of unadulterated mortification swept through me, and I gripped the underside of the table, trying to concentrate on only that. My father's mouth was working soundlessly, but I knew he was only seconds away from finding his voice and further humiliating me with reprimands. So I took a deep breath and prepared to public speak for the first time. I lifted my too-prominent chin, and stared haughtily across the table, as if I found everyone's presence unutterably offensive. I stood, sweeping my skirts behind me and arched my eyebrows, my voice coming out as cool and smooth as punch. "I have had enough dinner." And then I swept out of the room, even though we hadn't even gotten to the second course.

It wasn't bad for a first go at public speaking.

The best spot inside the city walls is the long wide balcony that looks over our house's courtyard, and I was rocking myself on one of the chairs, abusing my ultimate dunderheadedness, when Commander Ferid stepped out and my worst fears were actualized.

"Hallo," he said jauntily, glancing once at the view. "Now, don't disappoint me, young lady! You're the heir, aren't you? I'll be able to demand your presence at court someday and ask for your trenchant opinions on matters of state and ethics?"

I stared at him wide-eyed.

"'They can pee standing up.' What a perfect answer! That's just the sort of honesty and practical frankness the senate needs. Now then, you are the heir? If you're not, I'll ask Arshtat to make you a duchess."

I smiled shyly, his good humor winning me over. Looking back, I admire his ability to make my momentous blunder into a good joke between friends. And I was quite flattered that this brave, handsome commander had singled me out for conversation. "Father has to choose his heir. He can only be governor until he's sixty. It's tradition. It's not necessarily hereditary down here. But it most often is."

Ferid tapped his forehead. "Right. I'm still getting this all straight." He put his hands on his hips, looking over the balcony a second time. It was a cool, blue gray evening. "This country has so many different traditions...so many different people." He turned quickly back. "But still, you're going to fight for the title, right?"

"Fight?" I repeated. "I don't think so! Father's always said I'll be his first choice." I wondered if I ought to be a bit humble. "It's not guaranteed." Aw, forget humility. I leaned back in my rocker. "How's this: if you want to see me at court, you'll have to sanction any and all assassinations I commit to get the title."

Ferid snapped his fingers. "That's the spirit. I hear and obey!" He laughed, shaking his head. "I look forward to seeing you in court, my lady." He saluted me and left, still grinning broadly.

That's all he ever said to me that time. The war brought him next time, grim and wary. But always kind to me. Kindness is something I always remember. I cried when I learned that he and the Queen were killed in the Godwin uprising, both on the same night.


	5. Chapter 5

5

I didn't grow up so bad, physically or psychologically. I exercised and got tall enough that my fat figured out where it was supposed to settle, and my slightly sallow skin looks tawny and golden if I wear the right colors with it. My hair is sable, seal brown, cocoa bean, whatever you want to call it, straight and thick. I have my mother's almond eyes, the same color as my hair. I have my grandfather's mouth with the broad upper lip that refuses to form a bow. My profile makes me think of an alligator. That is, my cheekbones are too high and far back, my nose is too long and flat, and my chin still sticks out too far in front of my narrow jaws. Rocco says I'm not a witchy hag, but some of my smiles can be a bit scary.

That's who I am.

Wait.

You never saw my portrait, did you? People paint portraits of Gavaya and Babbage, but not of me? This careful physical description did nothing to betray my identity?

Well, I bet you know how to guess.


	6. Chapter 6

6

I'm used to men, and, occasionally, I even like them. Yes, they're big, lumpish, prone to loud noises and strange odors, but I've always been around them because I've always been around Mother and Father and Grand. Besides, the soldiers are nigh-on inescapable here. They are the city.

Father's pretty soft, actually. He prefers the pen to the sword, and he can be quite lethal with it. He doesn't even like to ride, which the soldiers all do beautifully, and what he knows about tactics comes from his history books. He's a politician, and he'll be a great one now that Falena's politics have room for honesty and compassion. But leading the Southern Shield in battle is something Father knows he can't do, so he's always remained close to our leading general and captains. I used to sit in on their meetings, just pretend I was part of something grand and crucial, even though I wasn't really listening.

My mother encouraged me to take up the sword if I were so inclined. But pudgy clumsy me always had an instinctual certainty that I'd be nothing but a liability on the battlefield. Besides, my casual interest wasn't worth the risk of Grand's wrath -no girl chick of _his_ will wield a sword. I love watching the soldiers spar, and I understand many of the theories of swordplay and warfare, but I will never be a warrior.

When tested, I came up with an affinity for lightning magic. I have a rune which I sometimes wear, generally only on journeys. I intend to study it some day and improve my talent, but I can't right now. Growing up around soldiers, I always knew that someone nearby would protect me, and now that I'm pregnant, my doctor insists that I not risk putting new magic into my system.

So where did my exercise come from? Around when I was ten, first hitting my ugliest and clumsiest, I took up horse-vaulting.

You read that.

My hobby and what I'm good at: throwing myself bodily onto the back of a moving horse, doing spins on its back, hanging backwards over its tail, handstands at the canter, whatever gravity lets me get away with.

Rocco taught me. Being the closest thing to a nursemaid, his job was to keep me occupied. When I expressed a desire to learn, he was quite reluctant to broach the subject. At first, he dithered:

"**No**."

He turned and strode smartly down the balcony, his bootheels clomping on the warm wooden planks, his long blonde hair tied behind his head.

I employed my superb diplomatic skills, passed down through generations of razor-witted politicians:

"Aw, pleeeeeez, Rocco?" When he reached the steps leading off the balcony to the courtyard below, I took a running leap and launched myself onto his back. He was too disciplined to say "oof", so he reflexively secured my legs under his arms.

"See? I made that jump easy as anything."

Rocco's voice was as hard and dry as the mountains that surround the city. "I'm flattered that you compare me to a horse."

"But see? I'm agile." I hoped he wouldn't mention how I'd fallen down the steps yesterday and landed in a water trough.

"_My lady_," he stressed, "horse-vaulting isn't a simple game."

"It's a very complicated game," I chirped back.

Rocco sighed irritably. "If you persist in your flippancy, I most certainly will not consider teaching you."

"Rocco," I said, more seriously, "I heard you telling the trainees just yesterday that vaulting is no more dangerous than riding."

"Riding is quite dangerous," Rocco shot back, "risking falls, broken bones, and, Sun forbid, death. I do not treat my lord's daughter's life so lightly."

"But _I_ do." Seriousness evaporating, I began to chew on his hair. "Please?" I repeated through a mouthful.

Rocco huffed. "Your mother needs to see to you, my lady. You need to be brought up."

I smiled. "Mother's too much a free spirit." (But that didn't stop her, even before things started to go bad. Now I can put on dazzling manners that would just kill you.)

"Ask your father."

I clomped off, thundering across the balcony to Father's cool study. He was looking at a map or something. "Father, can I try horse-vaulting?"

He looked at me, his map, at me, his map, and finally focused on me. "_Horse-vaulting_?" he repeated sharply.

I began tossing all my available cards onto the table. "I'm a good rider. I work well with horses. The horses are fully trained. Vaulting's not terribly dangerous, not if I'm in Rocco's hands. It's just another discipline, like jumping and dressage. You let me jump."

Father rubbed his round forehead and gave me a wry smile. "Let's see how you feel tonight after you've counted your bruises."

I had twenty-two _and_ a bloody nose.

It felt great. It looked pretty cool too.

I haven't vaulted since I found out about the baby, but no matter. Right now, I just want to stay as healthy and safe as possible (and if that means I have to sleep in until noon, then I have to sleep in until noon, yes, dear, it does). I'll be back to vaulting as soon as I can. My first horse, Sarqa, was a wonderful vaulting horse, and though he's retired, he still likes to see me take my thumps in the ring. He whinnies cheerfully every time I hit the dirt.


	7. Chapter 7

7

I was thirteen the day I bargained for a gladiator's life. Slavers don't have a big market down here, especially for gladiators. Most fighters get sold up north to Stormfist and Rainwall, but the slavers used to regularly traffic through my father's lands on their way up-country.

I always watched them with morbid curiosity. Those young men, some just barely ten, on their way to be branded with white tattoos to serve some bored senators. It didn't matter if their eyes were fierce or hopeless, their fate was the same: the combat ring, and then, when strength failed, menial labor.

The young man's eyes were fierce and resigned, if I can make you understand what that means. He sat at the end of a line of slaves, placed by a paddock and a water trough. His hands were tied behind his back, his pants filthy, his feet bare. Like the others, he had no shirt, and I could see that he already had muscle -had he been a farmhand or a fighter somewhere else? He was one of the oldest, maybe twenty. His skin was dark and tanned. His short hair, though messy with flecks of straw, was a bit darker than mine; his eyes were almond-shaped, like mine.

I inched closer to the line. For the first time, I wanted to talk to these slaves, ask questions. But what would they answer? "Life's hell, thanks."

"Lady Salisha," Rocco said warningly. I stopped. In general, I'm "my lady". Usage of my real name means business.

I looked over my shoulder at Rocco. "Their hands are bound. They can't do anything."

Rocco's face was set. "But I notice they haven't been gagged. Some things you shouldn't hear."

I love Rocco for worrying about me, but that never stops me from giving him withering looks. I pinched a generous wodge of flesh from my waist. "I don't think they'll ask me to do a strip tease."

Rocco narrowed his eyes. I hate it, how he almost always knows better than I. "Just what do you want to do? Don't tell me you want to demean them by staring."

I dropped my eyes, cheeks red. He was right. They weren't animals in a menagerie, even if they weren't treated with the dignity they deserved. I turned, risking one more look before I went away.

Sarqa, my darling horse, had leaned over the fence and begun to chew on the young man's hair. The young man was grimacing but refused to say anything. I scampered over. "Sarqa! Quit!"

Sarqa's chestnut ears swiveled towards me, and he released the slave's hair with a peeved hoof-stamp and a swish of his tail. "I'm sorry," I said, grasping Sarqa's halter and towing him away. The slave glanced at me and said nothing. They aren't allowed to speak without their owner's permission. I wondered if his vocal cords had even been removed.

As I led Sarqa to a practice ring, I wondered how much a young strong gladiator might cost. Expensive, most likely. Could the young man take pride in even that?

How revolting. To say nothing of having horse slobber in your hair.


	8. Chapter 8

8

Back then, Sarqa was a lovely horse, a seven year old stallion. These days he's been retired to stud, though I still take him out for rides to work off his flab. A big horse, he never got over his leggy adolescence and was considered one of the better racers in Sable. His color is smooth burnt orange, his mane and tail are blonde. He has a broad blaze down his face and three white stockings. Rocco began training him as a vaulter several years before he began to train me, and Sarqa succeeded where lesser horses would have failed. He fought on, bravely wincing as I threw myself at him and attempted to do handstands at a canter.

After Sarqa had chewed on the slave's hair, Rocco and I harnessed him and began another vaulting session. He was just teaching me how to hang off Sarqa's side by one hand and leg when Father stormed out of the house. Father rarely storms, and this stopped all the immediate activity cold. I untangled myself and hopped after him, hoping this would be something exciting.

Father fumed up to the slave line and their trader, who was a big rawboned man with a droopy blonde mustache and sun-red skin. "Get out of here! I've expressly forbidden the traffic of slaves through Sable! Take your sufferers elsewhere, unless you mean to release them!"

The trader glowered down at my usually so gentle father. "I beg to differ, Lord Raulbel. The Queen hasn't passed a law against slaving, unless I'm mistaken."

Father's soft hands clutched a large history book, one he'd probably been reading before he'd rushed out. "She hasn't -yet. But she has allowed the governors the right to outlaw slavery in their own provinces, and Sable has outlawed it!"

The slaver swept the front square with his eyes. "And how soon before Sable is the most economically backward territory in all Falena?"

"At least it won't grow rich collecting human tears!" Father shouted, and, to my amazement, he threw his book at the slaver. It was big, leather bound, its corners capped with bronze. The slaver stepped neatly to the west and avoided the book. _The History of Nagarea_ went flying on before it hit that same slave full on the face. After a loud fwap, the book slid off his bewildered countenance. Blood began to trickle out of his left nostril as he blinked dazedly.

The slaver stamped his foot. "Look! You pretend to care about these slaves, but look-! Damage! I'll be damned if his nose isn't broken!"

Father blinked, also dazedly, as his fists continued to shake.

"Listen," the slaver seethed, "if you care about their welfare so much, let me rest them and get them some water. Then we're off your damned territory, now and forever."

Staring at the line of blood puddling on the slave's collarbone, Father sadly nodded. As the slaver went to confer with one of his lackeys, Father approached the slave, bending to retrieve his book. "I am sorry," he said sincerely. "Shall I get you some ice?"

He didn't respond, staring with stoic blankness past my father's right shoulder. His right eye was beginning to swell over. Sighing, my father moved off.

I stared at the slave. Would his face heal in time, or would the damage deny him the privilege of even being a gladiator?

I also moved off, telling myself it wasn't my business.


	9. Chapter 9

9

It wasn't my business, yet after a few minutes I was walking back to the bleeding slave. "Sorry you got that faceful of history," I said. He glanced one eyed up at me, his right eye pretty much closed over. The bleeding had stopped, forming a dark red crust along his nostril. The blood continued to trickle wet down his neck. That couldn't be comfortable, especially with his hands bound and unable to wipe away the blood. Feeling awkward, I knelt in front of him and pulled out a handkerchief. He never looked right at me, even when I began to dab lightly at his neck and collarbone.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the next slave down the line had raised his eyebrows. I paused. Was the wounded slave going to get razzed later because of my compassion? I refused to care. Razzing didn't cause permanent harm. I continued my ministrations, surprising myself a little. I hadn't ever considered myself very compassionate. I wished I had something cool to put on that eye...

"Hey! Girl!" barked the slaver much too close.

I hunched my shoulders. Then Rocco's cool voice came from above and behind. "Let's be on our way."

The slaver continued to advance. "Get away from the merchandise! He's damaged enough."

I compressed my lips, backing away, crushing the bloody handkerchief in my fist. Suddenly, I hated that slaver.

The slaver, seeing that Rocco and I were still there and watching, produced a filthy rag from somewhere, dipped it in the water trough, and swiped the slave's face. He hissed with pain as it brushed his injured nose, but that was the only sound he made.

Rocco touched my wrist with the back of his hand. Yes, time to go.

As we walked back to Sarqa's paddock, I struggled to come to terms with what I'd seen. "How can they do it?" I finally burst out.

Rocco raised an eyebrow. "There has been slavery in Falena for over eight hundred years. That's ample time for slavers to think up justification."

"Not the slavers -the slaves. How can they -how can they not even shout when they're treated like that? We treat our horses better. We treat cows we're going to slaughter better!" I fought ferociously against the tears that were burning my eyelids. "If they say we have to have gladiators, why can't we at least treat them better than this?"

Rocco gave me a rare smile of approval, but it came nowhere near his eyes. "My lady has a gentle heart. Once they've proven they can fight, they'll be treated better, fed and allowed to exercise."

I snorted. "A gladiator's career can't be a long one. What if you're hurt, or you manage to get too old? Then what happens?"

Rocco sighed and shook his head.

"And what about that poor slave? What if his eye's been permanently damaged?"

"That's unlikely."

"But still. What if he -or any gladiator- gets maimed during practice?"

"Let's settle Sarqa," was what Rocco said, and by that I knew the conversation was over.


	10. Chapter 10

10

I couldn't stop thinking about that slave. Rocco could probably read my face as plain as paper and carefully steered me away from the slave line. I could've have overridden him by demanding he leave -as Lord Solis Raulbel's daughter, I had authority when I wasn't making an idiot of myself- but doing that would admit that I was preoccupied with the slave. For some reason, I imagined that would be wussy.

But when Grand woke up from his afternoon nap and stalked over to see what the business was, I felt confident enough to join him.

...Now I have to tell you about Grandfather. Grand is absolute.

That probably wasn't helpful, was it?

At that time, Grand was seventy. He had his heir late in life, and so I couldn't ever remember a time when Grand had ruled Sable. I'd heard stories though.

Grand was tough and relentless. He made himself famous by butchering Armes bandits or Black Merchants that attempted to cross the border into Falena. The soldiers under him were famously disciplined and beaten for the slightest infraction. Grand glorifies warfare above all else, and he is every heartbeat a warrior.

I've seen portraits of him in his youth -a tall man with dark bronze skin and long black hair, a proudly arched upper lip and jade green eyes gleaming over his high cheekbones. When he was fifty, an Armes Black Merchant cut off his right arm in a fight, and Grand was forced to give up the sword. Maybe it had broken Grand's heart, but it had also made him fiercer, more indomitable.

My earliest memory of him? Him picking me up one-handed, swinging me around his room, and then dropping me on his bed to tickle my feet as I laughed delightedly.

I watched him striding towards the slave line, his long iron hair loose around his still-broad shoulders, the stump of his right upper arm proudly decorated with a gold armband. I ran up to him. Grand's strong white teeth flashed in a smile. "Well, now, Salisha," he said, eyeing me with amusement, "here to ogle the beefcake?"

I wrinkled my nose distastefully at him, which made him laugh. Then he turned his attention to the slaves. The slaver looked at him warily. "Where these heaps headed?"

"Stormfist, Sir Lennox," the slaver replied curtly.

Grand raised his eyebrows. "Gladiators then? Well now..." He eyed them with new appreciation, probably tallying up each physical virtue and vice. He snorted. "You won't get far if you kick them in the face, slaver."

The slaver glared. "Your lordly son did that."

Grand narrowed his eyes sharply. "Solis? Don't be an idiot. Solis isn't man enough to kick a dog."

"He hit him with a book by accident," I supplied.

Grand rolled his eyes. "That's more Solis' style." He looked the bloody slave over while speaking to the slaver. "How's the season going in Stormfist?"

The slaver's eyes gleamed. Interest in the fights meant potential interest in the merchandise. "Sadly, Sir Lennox. Word is the local trainer's gone too soft."

"If I know Marscal, that won't last long," Grand replied absently.

"No, indeed," the slaver replied ingratiatingly. "But the games are not so fierce as when your lordship patronized them."

Grand gave the slaver a narrow-eyed look. He doesn't like people bringing up the time right after he lost his arm. That was the first time he'd ever taken active interest in gladiators, and he'd put several successful ones through the Stormfist Arena, but seeing others fight had never assuaged the pain of not being to fight himself. It had been ten years since Grand had gone north for any other reason than to see his friend Lord Marscal Godwin.

The slaver was recovering himself. "Lord Godwin says masters are simply too lenient on their gladiators these days."

"He does," Grand acknowledged. He glared, dissatisfied, at the slave line he paced along. "Too many lords are letting them go too early. A firm hand would make those games worth seeing again. I remember the days when they still allowed wild beasts in the ring." He snorted again. "None of these lilies would live through a bout with a half-dead Grassland griffin, let alone a dragon."

"Sir Lennox is known far and wide as a judge of battle worth," the slaver acknowledged, and he wasn't entirely pandering. "Surely you see the potential among these strapping young men?"

"Potential? It takes far more than that to make a warrior." Grand had come back to the blank-faced bleeding slave. Suddenly, his left leg shot out in a swift kick to the slave's chest. The slave lunged backwards, dodging the blow. His eyes went narrow with what I guessed was anger. Still no words.

Grand tilted his head to one side. "Good reaction. But which is better, swift reflexes or the ability to never flinch?"

The slaver knew his business. "Your Lordship's eye is unfailing. He comes from Ishay, just south of Doraat, and was a member of the local militia."

Grand gave the slaver a withering look. "Anyone can fob his way into a militia these days. Even _you_ could."

The slaver's expression flickered just a bit, but he plowed on. "I have often heard Lord Godwin speak of your training methods. He said you could turn a half-grown bushwhacker into a full warrior in five years."

"I could," Grand replied complacently. He glared down at the slave. "Solis is entirely too soft on them nowadays."

"That isn't true," I yipped. "Sable still has the best warriors in the south! Armes knows it. Rocco can still beat men twenty years younger than him."

"Rocco," Grand said dryly, "was one of my best pupils. And the men twenty years younger than him are under your father's regime." He raised his eyebrow at the slave. After a moment of silence, he said, "Price?"


	11. Chapter 11

11

"Seventy-thousand potch," the slaver replied instantly.

I sort of reeled, deep inside. Stupidly, I was amazed at how quickly he could assign a price to human life. At the same time, I was amazed it was so high. _For that much, they treat humans like animals? How revolting, how exorbitant, how demeaning, how-_ I really didn't know what to think.

Grand raised his eyebrows at the slaver. "Interesting. I thought you might price him higher."

The slaver smiled unctuously; it didn't suit him. "I know better than to poke a trained eye, your lordship."

After the transaction was made and the slave line finally moved off, Grand surveyed his new slave, who was still kneeling. Grand glanced proudly at me, but he didn't really see me or he would've known what to expect. "Well, Salisha. You see how neatly business is done? None of the mealy-mouthed jabbering your father's so fond of. Just look at him -I'll have him winning matches within two years. It'll be a good lesson to Solis in training warriors. So, would you like to name him?"

I stamped my foot. "What are you doing?"

Grand saw me this time.

"How could you do this -Buy someone like -like-"

Grand's eyes narrowed, showing his thin veneer of patience. "Calm down, Salisha. Honestly, chick. What are you going to do about it?"

My mouth worked soundlessly for a few moments. Then it opened wide. "I'm going to scream! I'm going to scream that my grandfather is an evil slave-buyer who's going to ruin some man's life just to prove a point! If you can't prove it some other way -than you're pathetic! Pathetic!"

Grand's eyes narrowed further. The soldiers in the training ring had all stopped what they were doing, eyeing us with varying degrees of unease and interest. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mother and Father banging out of the house, absolutely incomprehensible. I saw all this, but I was only paying attention to Grand, watching those cool eyes and that one fist that had occasionally lashed out at me. I knew I'd never duck fast enough.

I narrowed my eyes. "I can't believe you! If you don't free that slave, I'll never speak to you again! I won't have a grandfather that deals with slavers! You dishonor me!"

Grand put his head on one side. "Well now, little Salisha."

I balled my hands into fists. "Well what?"

"You're a poor bargainer. If I released this slave, how would you reimburse me? You don't have seventy-seven thousand potch, and even if you did, I wouldn't take money from my own granddaughter."

I tilted my chin up, looking him as evenly in the eyes as I could. "I'm not bargaining. I'm commanding."

Grand stared at me. His eyes narrowed even further. My nerves recoiled, bracing for his fist. But slowly, slowly he smiled. Then he turned to my father. Father had just gotten to us and interposed himself between me and Grand. Mother grabbed me from behind, her hands steadying my shoulders.

Father glanced at the slave, then at Grand. "You bought this slave?" He took a deep breath. "Father, I have outlawed slaving in Sable."

Grand gave him a scornful grimace. "Spare me your preaching, Solis. I thrashed you too often to be under your power." He looked over Father's shoulder, ice cold into my eyes. "It appears I haven't thrashed Salisha often enough."

Father squared his shoulders. "Don't touch her."

"Don't," said Mother. I could imagine her eyes, hostile and warning. She, like myself, usually got on very well with Grand.

Grand laughed shortly. "I won't. And do you know why not?"

No one asked.

"Because she isn't like you," Grand said, training his gaze back on Father. "She's like me. She stands up for herself, and to hell with anyone else's agenda. You never could have done that at thirteen. You can hardly do it now."

She's like me.

I can't begin to describe how those three words made me feel, still make me feel right now as I write them. Scared of the implication, disgusted with myself, enormously proud of myself. Unstoppable.

"Father's just as brave as you are," I said. "Braver! Now let the slave go."

Grand gave me his eerie smile again, a strange mix of admiration and annoyance. He turned disdainfully away from Father, but he tossed Mother a laugh. "Get your chick married to a strong-willed man, Melissa. Before they all find out _she's_ strong-willed." Then he walked off.

I'm still asking myself today, why did he do it? Why did he submit? Dare I suspect that the rejection by his granddaughter, the one who took after him, was something he didn't want to face?

Maybe.

When Grand was gone, I felt absolutely mortified, even worse than after the whole "They can pee standing up" episode. I especially couldn't look at the slave. "Well," Mother said, a bit hesitantly.

Father was looking upset, but he gave me what was undoubtedly meant to be a reassuring smile. "Well, Salisha. Well." He looked down. "I'm sorry about that, young man."

I risked a look at the ex-slave. He was staring at each of us in turn, frowning warily. Mother came forward and untied his hands. "We'd better get you cleaned up. Salisha, run along and find someone with a water rune. We need ice for his face. What's your name?"

The ex-slave was getting to his feet, wincing as he unbent his joints and rubbing his chapped wrists. "Dinn."

"Nice name," Mother said absently, eyeing his dirty clothes with the air of one who was already measuring him for a new tunic and trousers. "Salisha, get on."

I got on, coming back with Robaro, one of our best Water mages ("I'm back! I got some dinn for Ice -I mean, er, uh..."). Mother and Father had taken Dinn into the house and placed him in the large front room. Mother was gingerly washing his face. Father was walking upstairs into his study, rubbing his temples.

"We knew Father wouldn't survive debtor's prison," Dinn was saying, his voice thick -probably from all the blood and snot. "So I went. It was only supposed to be for two years. I didn't know that imprisonment meant I belonged to the country."

"Horrid rule," Mother muttered. "Prison's where most of the gladiators come from, if they're not kidnapped abroad. Sooner or later, the Queen and His Commandership are going to put an end to all this -oh, Robaro, here, help me."

As Rob conjured up some ice, I realized that I was entirely useless to this little tableau, and I was still almightily embarrassed. I retreated upstairs to Father's study. He was placing some books on a shelf.

"Father," I said, coming up and hugging him around the waist. "I'm sorry I'm like Grand."

Father sucked in his breath just a bit, then his hands came soothingly on my head. "He meant it as a compliment, Salisha."

"B-but Grand bought a slave. I'd never-"

"He meant you stood up for yourself. And he's right, you did. It's an admirable quality. Don't take it any other way."

"He used me to insult you!"

"Well," Father said after a moment, "that's not your fault either."

I looked up. "I wasn't stupid then?"

Father smiled. "I don't think so. Though Rocco will certainly call himself stupid when he realizes what he left you alone to face."


	12. Chapter 12

12

So three years passed. I changed, in some ways. I got taller, as I said, and stronger. At fourteen, I discovered that I had an indefatigable talent for getting crushes on older men, and I never told anyone about it. At sixteen, I got tired of the silent drama and just -stopped. I don't know. I still admired a lot of the soldiers around me, but I definitely stopped mooning over them. I guess you can only put up with that for so long.

Oh yeah. Mother got her hooks into me and I learned manners. All this was because I was going to have my first season at court three weeks after my sixteenth birthday. My parents had gone to court when I was a year old, but I didn't remember any of it (just as well; I spent most of my time in the nursery, asleep). I looked forward to it all my fifteenth year -maybe that's what finally got my mind off the soldiers.

Or maybe it was Father's suggestion that I might start considering whom I'd marry. As a lord's daughter, it would have to be someone of some appreciable rank.

How'd that make me feel? I suppose for a girl raised in a military city, I have a romantic side. I liked the idea of having a strong, loving husband in the abstract. Whenever I tried to assign that role to any living, breathing male, I was sadly disappointed. Mother told me that I didn't have to come back from court engaged, but I should keep an eye out. "No pressure," she said. "Just, someday-"

"Oh knock it off. You don't care about me being married. You just want grandchildren to spoil."

"Naturally. And marry someone good-looking, Salisha. I want pretty grandbabies. Oh, I really need to learn to knit so I can make them little hats."

We had a small retinue of servants. Rocco was with me, of course, and both Mother and Grand were coming. Father didn't care overmuch for court and was happy to stay at home. We traveled up north by horseback. Living in Sable, I had never seen so much grass, so much sky, or even the deep blue of the Feitas. I made us stop in every town along the way. I was eager to get there, but the journey was still over too fast. And when I got there...

So, sixteenth year: gowns, parties, and husband-scoping.

Welcome to Sol Falena.


	13. Chapter 13

13

I hope you've been to Sol Falena, because I can't begin to describe it. I love the capital, the surrounding blue arms of the Feitas, the gleaming white walkways, the cypress and dogwood gardens, the dome of the Sun Palace gleaming like a pearl. So recently, it was the home to so much treachery and disaster, but it looks like heaven. I wished I had bigger eyes, to look at more of it at once.

Well, anyway, we got to court, and my official introduction to my sovereign was later that afternoon at a small party. It was my first party, my first chance to deploy the formidable arsenal of manners Mother had armed me with. I had my first really nice dress -a warm golden rose overdress that trailed along the floor and was open in the front, clasping in the middle of my stomach. There was an ivory silk dress underneath that fell just above my knees, and long bronzy gloves. Mother dressed my hair with combs and dangling trinkets. Grand smiled approvingly. "As pretty as your grandmother was."

Mother arched her eyebrows. "Kassja was fair haired."

"I never said she wasn't," Grand quipped, in high spirits and proud of me. "But Salisha's turning out quite nicely."

"Thank the Sun," I laughed, a bit giddy with nerves.

I almost died when I realized Commander Ferid remembered me. Of course, he didn't say anything when I was introduced to him and Queen Arshtat, but he did raise one eyebrow humorously. The Prince looked stiff and bored, and Princess Lymsleia was probably asleep somewhere in a gilt nursery.

The introduction was my only moment in the spotlight. After that, Mother steered me around the other visiting nobility and the several senators who were more or less permanent fixtures at court. Grand left and spent the evening talking to Marscal Godwin and his son Gizel. After about a quarter of an hour, Mother was hailed by some of her court chums. She glanced at me. "Will you be all right on your own or do you want to join us?"

"Certainly not," I said. "I'm here to make an impression, not toddle along after my mumsy."

Mother squeezed my elbow. "Good girl. Have fun. Not...too much fun, of course." She moved off.

Well, I was in a bit of a pickle. I gravitated around, and, while everyone was polite, no one seemed to have anything interesting to say to me. As I was making my third pass at the nibblies table, I heard Rocco, always at my side, tap his foot irritably. I turned.

"Hello," said a congenial male someone.

"Hello," I replied, giving his clothes a quick look to guess his rank. A Queen's Knight, by his armor. I regarded his face. A handsome young Queen's Knight.

"Lady Salisha Raulbel," this Knight said, bowing over my hand. I saw he carried a katana, similar to many I'd seen at home. "I am Queen's Knight Kyle of Lelcar, delighted to make your acquaintance."

"Well, that's very nice," I said, pleased and a bit at a loss. All the other Queen's Knights were standing stiffly at the walls, watching the whole room. Then I realized that the table was along one wall, so I'd walked right into the area this Kyle was stationed in.

"This is your first time at court, isn't it? I don't remember seeing you last year. And trust me, I'd remember."

I brought my fan across the lower half of my face, more to hide a disbelieving snort than from shyness. Kyle of Lelcar was only a year or so older than myself, extremely handsome with a wide smile, long blonde hair and stunning blue eyes. Rocco's face swam into view over Kyle's left shoulder, giving me a Stern Look.

I lowered my fan. "You certainly have a knack for remembering cliched come-ons."

"Oh come _on_," Kyle said, "I can't lie to a pretty woman. And I know we've never met, because I've never seen a smile as saucy as yours before."

I whapped his forearm with my fan. "What is His Commandership paying you for? Guarding the party guests or cataloguing them?"

"Guarding them, of course. Cataloguing is just a perk," he replied easily. My smile (saucy? Oh wow, was it really saucy? Was there are mirror anywhere?) widened. Despite his brashness, there was something genuinely friendly in his demeanor that I couldn't help liking. "I'd say," he went on, "on a scale of one to ten, you are definitely a-"

To this day, I still haven't quite forgiven Donna for showing up just then. But before Kyle finished, a tall pale woman had stalked up. About twenty, her hair was many layers of white blonde, the longest layer just touching her shoulders. Both her eyes and her eyelashes were black. She was dressed in deep purple with silver embroidery, a wide lavender obi around her slim waist. Her dress left half of one pale leg bare, and she was wearing low white boots.

"Kyle, get away from her! Honestly," she said, stopping next to the Queen's Knight. She _whacked_ him with the pointy end of her fan, right in the stomach.

Not even flinching, Kyle smoothly shifted his smile over to her. "Ah, lovely Donna, you should've told me you were here. I've missed you all winter."

Donna gave him a witheringly affectionate glare. "If my husband were here, he'd tie you in a sailor's knot."

"He probably would," Kyle agreed affably.

"Kyle, you're darling, but go away," Donna suggested.

Kyle brought a hand tragically to his heart and backed dramatically away from Donna, giving her languishing looks all the way. Then he grinned brightly and turned to a serving maid.

I was left with this older woman who raised her eyebrows critically at me. "You should be careful. Kyle wouldn't force himself on you, but he's still more than enough to ruin your reputation."

Nettled, I raised my eyebrows. "You seem fairly familiar with him."

"Of course. I come from Lelcar too. Lord Orok is my brother." She held out a smooth hand, ending in short silver nails. "I'm Donna Wilde."

"Oh," I said, glad of some context. Lord Wilde governed Estrise, the province directly north of Sable that opened to the East Ocean and the Island Nations. "I'm Salisha Raulbel," I added unnecessarily.

She nodded. "Just warning you to watch yourself around him. Or watch him."

"She's my worst enemy," Kyle mentioned over her shoulder.

Donna's eyes flashed. "Are you back?"

Kyle looked angelically innocent. "Donna Wilde, this is my post! You could not make me leave it for any reason. No-" He said, stopping Donna's next comment, "No, not even for you could I leave it. By the way, did you name the kid after me?"

Donna snorted. "Of course not. His name is Kurtz, after my grandfather." She blinked as she realized the implication of Kyle's question. She stomped on his foot. "You know perfectly well he couldn't possibly be yours! The very idea, you slimy little-" She glanced around, noticed a few nobles had turned, and backed a step away from the grinning Queen's Knight. The next Knight over, a rather frightening older man with long silver hair and no eyebrows, glared disapprovingly.

"Anyway," Donna huffed, "stay away from young Salisha here. She's far too good for you."

"Ah, yes," Kyle said wistfully. "Her high breeding would spoil me for anything lesser." I stepped on his foot. "Whoa!" said Kyle. "You aren't allowed to do that until you've known me at least five years."

"Oh," I said. "Do forgive my indelicacy."

"I might," Kyle answered. Without moving a step, he somehow gave the impression of leaning over me. "Did you know there's a balcony on the west side of the palace with a gorgeous view of the Feitas?"

"I didn't."

"And might I also add that there's a full moon tonight?"

"You might."

"I'll bet two thousand potch you're one of those girls that looks good in moonlight."

I smiled. "Thank you."

"Mmmhmm," Kyle said offhandedly, ignoring Rocco's glares, "I hear the moon will be rising around nine. I do like strolling at night. Mmmhmm."

"How informative you are."

"Well... you know, it's just something to keep in mind..." By then, Rocco had grabbed my left elbow and was steering me away.

Donna Wilde had kept pace with us and shook her head. "Well, if you don't care, you don't care, but I did warn you."

I laughed. "Warn me of what? I didn't promise anything. I'm sure Kyle looks pretty good in moonlight too, and I'll bet he'll be waiting around in it for several hours."

Donna nodded firmly. "The fresh air will do him a world of good."

Rocco sighed and shook his head. "_Lady Salisha_," was all he said.


	14. Chapter 14

14

We had dinner around nine, just the three of us in Grand's suite. I was feeling far more relaxed in familiar company and a simple burgundy kimono. Mother smiled archly as she sat down next to me. "A Queen's Knight is not a suitable match for you, Salisha."

"I can't believe you took him seriously," I expostulated, wondering just how much she'd overheard. "Of course I wasn't thinking of marrying him."

Grand studied me consideringly. "He wouldn't have been a good match, no." (Why was _everyone_ taking this seriously?) "Though he must be a good fighter, to be a Knight that young. A great fighter." Grand sighed. "I admit, I'm not pleased at the idea of marrying Salisha to some soft satin and pastry toff who hires gladiators to fight his own battles."

Mother gave Grand a wry look as she sipped her wine. "Do you have anyone in mind?"

"Well...Salisha's by no means a bad match. Sable's an important city, and if she makes a good impression, we could have any number of lords to choose from." He speared some pheasant onto his fork. "If I had it my way, I'd marry her to Gizel Godwin."

"Godwin?" I repeated uneasily. Lord Marscal and his two sons (now one son, the other having been killed) had visited Sable from time to time. I'd always found Lord Marscal to be a cold, frightening man. Gizel was very handsome and very polite, but his eyes were always carefully blank.

"Don't yip, Salisha, it's not going to happen. I'm sure Marscal has him all sewn up to marry Lymsleia."

"Lymsleia's only three."

"Gizel will still be alive when she's twenty."

"It makes sense," said Mother. "Arshtat's father was a Barows, now it's Godwin's turn."

"Another foreigner could win the Sacred Games," I suggested.

"But one probably won't," Grand shot back. He chewed meditatively. "An alliance with the Barows family might have been possible. Solis and that fool Salum seem to be on good terms. Hiram Barows would've been the better choice, but he's dead, and I will _not_ have you marry that Euram. He's only thirteen, for one thing, for another, his laugh reminds me of a mallard duck with a-"

"Euram Barows may well try for Lymsleia's hand himself," Mother suggested.

"-fish down its throat. True enough. That leaves the more local lords...Well, I hear Lord Volga of Lelcar is unwed."

I sighed impatiently. "Can we please talk about this some _other_ time?"

Grand's expression clearly said, "Why the hell wait?", but there was a discreet tap at the door. I went and got it, opening the door on Donna Wilde with a blinking baby in her arms. She smiled. "Done with supper? I thought you might like to see over the castle grounds." She looked past me, extending the invite to Grand and Mother.

"Of course Salisha wants to," Mother said. "Grand and I have some very dull topics to discuss, so you just run along."

I gave Mother a withering look. With me gone, she and Grand could really hash out my matrimonial prospects. I'd probably come home tonight and find myself engaged to Dilber Novum.

Nevertheless, I was quite happy to stroll with Donna. After all, I hadn't come to Sol Falena to read all day in the library. Donna gave me a (I suddenly hoped) genuine smile. The long rose colored dress she was wearing made her seem much more approachable.

"He's sweet," I said. "This is little Kurtz-most-definitely-not-Kyle-of-Lelcar's baby?"

Donna grinned. "He's a handful. Only four months, and he already crawling across any horizontal surface he can get to. Pretty fast too." The baby blinked up at me out of huge brown eyes. He had heaps of messy blonde hair, a bit darker than his mom's.

"Your first?"

"Mmhm. And, I tell you, what a way to start. I usually walk with him at night. It settles him down some. Honestly, I never believed one tiny baby could be so fussy."

"You look absolutely broken up about it."

Her grin went even wider.

We strolled along one of the vast white walkways that crisscross both the Sun Palace and its beautiful city. Their height gave us an impressive view of the Feitas, its little arched waves glossed with moonlight, its waters jet black. I stared at it, entranced.

Donna gently poked my arm and pointed up. Above and to the left was a broad balcony facing west. Kyle of Lelcar leaned against the railing, chatting quite animatedly to a very curvy noblewoman. "Ah," I said softly, "and I wanted so much to leave a trail of broken hearts."

"Then don't start with Kyle. His ways are going to catch up with him sooner or later, and he'll be brought pretty low when they do." She didn't sound at all pleased with the notion.

"I didn't visit Lelcar on my way north. What's it like?"

Donna looked thoughtful. "A bit confusing to visitors. What with one governor and three quarreling lords for each islet, we don't always know who's in charge -and whoever thinks he should be is apt to get a bit paranoid." She sighed. "Orok and I had something of a falling out over that. That's why I went to Estrise." She looked at the view. "If you like that, I have to take you home with me sometime. The first thing I fell in love with at Estrise was walking along the beach at night. Nothing's more beautiful."

"I'd like to see Estrise. My father's visited Lord Boz, hasn't he?"

"Once or twice. But they...don't really have much to talk about."

"No, I imagine they wouldn't. The history books will talk about Dilber of the West and Boz of the East, but I don't think they'll mention Solis of the South. Still," I added, always loyal, "war's not everything." Donna nodded and cuddled her gurgly baby close. I watched, feeling a bit intrusive. "Were you and Lord Boz an arranged match?" I asked suddenly, surprising myself.

Donna looked up. "Sort of. He was always a good candidate for me, but I went and took the initiative. I was seventeen, but I thought about it for a long time, and so I traveled to Estrise on my own. Boz was very good to me, but I kept waffling about marriage. I went back to Lelcar and almost married one of Orok's cronies. Boz was heartbroken, the poor thing, but I changed my mind at the last minute. The right decision. Isn't that right, Kurtz?" Kurtz blew a spit bubble.

I sighed. "That sounds lovely and romantic." I shed my dreamy visions in a minute. "I asked because one reason Father's sent me is to go husband-scoping." I shook my head. "It's so hard to approach someone when you're sizing him up as a spouse first thing in."

"Yeah. Sometimes I think it's better when your parents go ahead and arrange it. Give yourself time. You're still young. You're what, sixteen? Psssh, you don't even know what you want in a husband yet. Wait a few years."

"Counsels the woman who got married at the venerable old age of seventeen."

"Eighteen," Donna stressed. "I lived in Estrise for six months, went home for two months, and got officially married after five more months. I was an old lady by then."

"Well," I said, shrugging the weight of responsibility off (at least for now), "you're right. I am too young to think about just yet. I still have to get my feet." I spread my arms and twirled around the walkway, watching the stars reel above my head, perfectly white in the blackness.


	15. Chapter 15

15

My first season at court passed far too quickly. Suddenly it was fall, and I was heading back to Sable, mentally composing any number of letters to the various friends I'd made over the months. Donna still loomed foremost in my mind. She had returned to Estrise a month ago, so I already had new things to tell her.

I missed my court friends, but not so much that I wasn't relieved to be home, in my own personal surroundings. Father was glad to hear I'd made a good first impression, but his husband-hints drew no results. I took up my vaulting again, my muscles flimsy from their months of disuse, and was bruised many, many times.

About two months after I'd returned, I woke up to find the sky was overcast. That in itself was unusual. Sable is a hot, rocky land, and has learned to subsist with minimal water. Indeed, rain is usually a sign of dangerous mudslides, not a help to our crops. After I'd dressed, Father called me into his study. A bit mystified, I entered and found him standing with Rocco. Rocco's face's was often guarded, but today, it was more than that. It was almost blank. "What's wrong?" I asked instantly.

Father looked at Rocco. Rocco took a deep breath. "My lady, I have asked Lord Solis to relieve me of my bodyguard duties, and he has granted my wish."

My mouth dropped slightly open, and my nerves tensed, like I'd been struck. "Rocco?"

Rocco grimaced and glanced at Father. "Rocco wants to retire, Salisha."

"I-" I searched Rocco's face. "Did I do something wrong? I'm sorry, Rocco, please don't." I, usually so stubbornly proud of walking my own way, felt suddenly very dependent.

"You haven't done anything wrong, my lady," Rocco said, finally looking at me.

"No," Father added quickly. "But Rocco's been your bodyguard for almost ten years. He's done his job, and he deserves to rest. And-"

"And I'm going to get married," Rocco added, mouth twitching a bit sheepishly.

My eyes rounded. "You are? Who?"

"Do you remember that maid who waited on you in Sol Falena?"

"Not really," I admitted.

"Her name is Grace. She's agreed to come south to Sable."

"Oh," I said, feeling lost, "congratulations."

"Don't worry, my lady," Rocco said, suddenly stern again. "I will not leave Lord Raulbel's service. And I am already busy selecting my replacement."

Replacement? Someone new to get used to. I shook my head. "There's no replacement for you, Rocco. But-" I smiled with an effort. "I'm happy for you."

Rocco's smile reached his eyes. "Thank you, my lady."

Grace arrived in a month. She was a pretty blonde girl, half Rocco's age, and they were mad about each other. It was incredible. My strong, stony Rocco just went all goofy when she smiled into his eyes, and they had a baby on the way after a month.

My new bodyguard? His name was Chaz. I knew him by sight mostly. His wife, Mir, runs the local apothecary. Chaz is definitely a top-notch warrior, one of Rocco's old protégés. He was twenty when he started out in my service. I remember the afternoon when he first walked over to me, a tall man in a green dojo tunic, black breeches, his brown hair tied back. "My lady?"

"Yes?"

"I am Sir Chaz, your new bodyguard."

"Ah...yes." I looked around. I was in the courtyard, saddling up Sarqa for a ride in the mountains. That was always a bit of a risk, though the horses were surefooted, and our sentries dealt with most of the bandits. "Well, saddle up. I'm going for a ride."

Chaz returned in under ten minutes, leading a patient-eyed gray mare. We mounted, and I turned Sarqa's head towards the front gate.

"My lady."

I turned. "Yes?"

"I would advise against riding abroad."

"Have there been any attacks."

"No." Chaz avoided my eyes. "I just feel it would be...inadvisable."

"Why?" I demanded.

Chaz shrugged.

"As Lord Raulbel's daughter, I demand you tell me why."

Chaz shifted uncomfortably in his saddle. "I feel it would be...unseemly."

I stared at him blankly. "I have gone riding abroad since I was ten."

"Yes...with Sir Rocco."

"Yes, and now I'm riding with you. Come on."

"That's -that's why I feel it's unseemly."

I regarded him critically. "Are you a convicted womanizer?"

"No!" Chaz looked to either side. "Upon my honor, I have no such charge against me. And I hope... to keep it that way."

I frowned at him for several minutes. "Are you saying you want a chaperone to protect your reputation? I believe I'm insulted."

"No!" Chaz probably would've slapped his forehead, but we train our soldiers not to give into impulses like that. "No, my lady, forgive me! I thought of your reputation. I would not like any of your prospective suitors to think-"

I faced forward and pressed my heels into Sarqa's side. "Ride on, Chaz." The gates swung open.


	16. Chapter 16

16

I looked blankly to either side. "Why aren't we just meeting in the city?"

Chaz glanced at me but said nothing. Even though he'd been my bodyguard for a little over a year, he still didn't feel comfortable speaking unless it was strictly necessary. When pressed for his reasons, he only muttered that it could be "unseemly".

Of course, he really didn't have to tell me. Meeting on the Sable-Armes border was a symbolic gesture, though I felt it was pretty empty. Sable itself practically sits on the wall, and Sable controls most of the traffic between the countries. However, Father had said that empty gestures generally had a large role to play in politics.

Politics. What a dry, depressing word. Siiiiiigh.

At the risk of boring you, I'll explain what had happened. A gold mine had been discovered in the Sable Mountains. Well and good, no? No. About twenty yards of it lay in the Kingdom of New Armes, which made those silk-hatted idiots think they had some claim to it. Queen Arshtat and Father had both (superficially, at least) taken it seriously. Father had suggested we resolve things diplomatically, hence this wall meeting. The queen had sent Lady Sialeeds as a delegate, and Lord Barows had come along as well. He kept referring to Father as his "dear friend", so he was probably hoping for some share of the gold. And in tow was any number of historians and cartographers, one of whom I eventually found out was Takamu, who got his way into Dawn Castle and spent the entire war scribbling in a room on the lower level. On a hot day in early spring, we all trundled off to the wall. Father stressed to me that I wasn't to take an active role in the proceedings, but he wanted me to observe.

The Armes delegation was camped on their side of the wall, a cluster of round, shimmering silk tents, vivid saffron and flame-colored umber. The Armes politicians were just as sumptuously silked, satined, beribboned, befeathered, and gem-encrusted. They too had their entourage of bodyguards, surveyors, mapmakers and historians.

I stopped dead. I tried to keep my face impassive, but...Sun above... I hadn't realized it was physically possible to be that hideous.

Jidan Giusu. I bet you remembered the face before the name. That bipedal suet pudding was the first thing I saw, dressed in bright red and green with a peacock feather bobbing from his turban. He had a golden peacock on a silver leash, and the thing looked positively humiliated. Giusu's face was arranged in a complacent sneer, the skin bagging generously under his little eyes, his lips lying like slugs on top of each other. That skinny mustache was an abomination.

I eventually learned that he wasn't just there to revolt the living daylights out of us all, he was representing the Sparna clan, the powerful Armes family that was directly across from Sable. I also eventually learned that his presence was something of an insult to my father; a closer connection to the family -as in, someone bearing the famous surname- would have been far more suitable, but King Jalat obviously felt Father didn't rate.

However, the King also had to have his own representative, or he would have looked ineffective in front of Lady Sialeeds. As my gaze jerked off of Giusu, my eyes rounded. I stood there for several heartbeats, trying to decide if the King's delegate was male or female.

It was Shula Valya.

Male. I guess.

Shula was languidly flicking a silk fan, flanked by his two female bodyguards, Sharmista and Nifsara. Nifsara frankly alarmed me, with her boy-short hair, her shifting eyes and that enormous rose tattoo on her stomach. She'd already begun eyeing all the men in our delegation. Sharmista was all elegance and business, as usual, her face perfectly serene.

First there was a silence. This was a minor power play. Whoever spoke first would be conceding that he had the disadvantage. After several taut moments, Shula stepped forward. Looking back, I see it was a good move; he wanted to show that New Armes was willing to take reasonable lines and that Falena should do the same.

"King Jalat Ishvaak the Mighty extends his greetings through me," he said smoothly. "I am Shula Valya of the Madras Clan, granted by my liege to represent him in this counsel. He is assured that this gathering will prove beneficial to all concerned and be a tribute to our sagacity and grace."

Translation: Let's play nice.

Sialeeds stepped forward. "I, Sialeeds Falenas, greet New Armes on behalf of my sister, Queen Arshtat Falenas. The Queen desires nothing more than a peaceful resolution to this debate. It is her intention to uphold the honor of Falena in all matters of diplomacy and warfare."

Translation: Or else.

Guisu jiggled a step forward. "I am Jidan Guisu of the Sparna Clan. I am most gratified to witness the...diplomacy that shall transpire here."

Translation: What the hell am I doing here? It's hot, and I am a fat man in silk.

The it was Father's turn to public speak. "The House of Raulbel extends its greetings to the Sparna Clan and the Royal House of Ishvaak. We pray that Sable shall host an exchange of wisdom, courtesy, and honor."

Translation: Like it or leave.

Now that we all knew each other, we dispersed.

Business would start tomorrow.


	17. Chapter 17

17

I was at loose ends. Father was conducting the serious business of preparing for tomorrow, going over verbal strategies with Lady Sialeeds and Lord Barows. Sialeeds, as befitted her lofty station, had been accompanied by a Queen's Knight -Kyle of Lelcar no less. If he noticed me, he didn't say anything; he seemed to have eyes only for Sialeeds (And Nifsara. And Sharmista. And that cute historian from Yeshuna.) I could see why; the queen's sister was far from an eyesore, though I found her rather cool and abrasive. Little matter, as none of them had time to talk to me.

We stayed stationed along the wall, politely ignoring our comfortable city in deference to our opponents, er, guests. I paced back and forth, bored. Chaz had left (I was surrounded by soldiers, pretty much inside Sable's walls, so he was perfectly fine in leaving). Dinner was a haphazard affair, people dropping down in front of the fires to eat whenever they felt like it. Eventually my stomach was wooed by the smell of slowly roasted lamb, cloves, currants imported from Doraat, and freshly baked flat bread. I sat and tried to remain neat as I ate.

I glanced at the soldier sitting next to me, vaguely disquieted. I knew a lot of the garrison, most of them by name or sight, and I was sure I recognized this one, but I couldn't remember why. All of a sudden, four years old embarrassment tinged my cheeks. I took it in stride. "I know you. You're Dinn."

The soldier glanced at me. "Yes, my lady."

I walked backwards in my mind, recalling what I knew about him. Not long after he'd been freed, Mother had sent him back to his village. However, he'd returned a bare month later, swearing his life's loyalty to my father. Gratitude, most likely. I hadn't heard anything else about him since. I was just about to ask how he was doing when he interrupted with, "Forgive me for not saying this sooner, but I want to thank you for your words four years ago."

"Oh," I said vaguely, my embarrassment returning. _Words_ seemed far too mild a term for my explosive arguments that day. "There's no need to thank me for being a decent human being."

Dinn's mouth tightened, a bit grim. "You'd be distressed to find how few decent human beings there are, my lady."

I was quite nettled at his assumption that I was a mincy little naïf who knew nothing of the real world. I was_ seventeen_. An _adult_. I knew people could be heartless. Actually, he was exactly right, and I hardly had a clue what he was talking about. I have a better idea now, sad to say. You'll hear about that.

"Well," I said, adopting something of Lady Sialeeds' aloofness, "what have you been up to, Sir Dinn? Distinguishing yourself among the soldiers?"

Dinn's grimace turned self-deprecating. "I like to think so."

I studied him. He was attired no differently from the other soldiers; his tunic was blue, his pants tan. He was wearing his hair in a singularly unattractive way -short in the back and long in the front. I decided that his face was handsome enough to compensate for the hair. Nothing about him gave any sign of an advanced rank. "What training are you going through?"

"General Ruel has given me a minor division of your father's cavalry to command." Ruel was the head of Father's garrison, a man Father knew well and respected. His status afforded him the luxury of living in our house and eating with us, when he could. His grown up children were terribly jealous.

But I wasn't thinking about that just then. "Cavalry?" I repeated, instantly interested. "Which horse is yours?"

If Dinn was thrown off by the question, he hid it. "I'm presently training Spook, my lady."

I almost clapped my hands. "I remember Spook! The albino three year old filly with the insane red eyes?"

He grinned. "Yes, my lady."

"You should ride into battle with a tattered black cloak and a horned helmet. It would have such a soothing effect on your opponents."

"As my lady commands."

"What weapon do you favor?" I asked, attempting to sound businesslike.

His sheathed sword was sitting at his side (I later learned that he couldn't possibly sit with it as he carried it on his back). It was an incredibly long nodachi, at least sixty-eight inches. He politely drew its full length, letting it catch the firelight. "Al Sabah," he said, which was apparently its name.

"Nice," I said, like I had any idea what I was talking about. "Very long. Not steel, of course."

"No, it's steel, my lady."

"Ah. But some light alloy."

Dinn's eyes narrowed slightly. It was a look I was going to get quite often over the years, and it means Amusement. "As my lady says."

"And your lady is quite sure," I retorted. "There's no way you could use it otherwise, certainly not from horseback."

"My lady is..." Dinn paused, probably trying to think of some polite way to end the sentence, "opinionated. A good quality," he added (rather lamely, I thought.)

"Your lady is _right_. Here, hand it to me. I'm sure it's perfectly lightweight."

He handed it over. I hefted it and quickly handed it back. "Pfft. It's a feather quill." I hid my right wrist in my lap and surreptitiously massaged it with my left.

Dinn resheathed Al Sabah. "I would not contradict my lady," he said, a bit too blandly.

"Good," I said, rubbing my wrist openly. Sun above, that HURT. His wrists had to be steel too, there was no other way to explain it. About then, Ruel walked past, making a quick gesture. Dinn stood, bowed and left.

Eventually, it was night. Our little conclave packed up and went home, still preparing itself for the coming negotiations.


	18. Chapter 18

18

As we sat down inside Shula Valya's tent, a silky manservant swung a silver censer around us, filling the air with mild sandalwood fragrance. Shula invited us all to recline on the piles of the silk cushions, and we got to business.

Three hours later, I had a headache. I couldn't see that anything else had been accomplished, but as Father walked out, he nodded smartly to Lady Sialeeds, who glanced at Giusu and rolled her eyes. Oh. Okay, we must have done something good.

Father turned to me. "What do you think, Salisha?"

I tried to assemble the scattered fragments of conversation that I'd registered. "Armes doesn't seem too eager for war."

"No," Father replied. "The war two years ago has taken some of the fighting spirit out of them. We're doing quite well."

Our entourage remained on the Armes side of the wall, mingling politely before the next bout of negotiations opened. Shula, the stellar diplomat that he is, was making his rounds and got his way to me.

"Ah," he said, when I'd introduced myself. He flourished his fan elegantly. "The Southern Jewel."

I stared at him with his shirred gold silk turban, his straight-falling black hair, the deep folds of his red velvet jacket, the ruby brooch sparkling at his throat, his poofy white pants and his low deerskin boots with upturned toes. I drew my own fan from my belt and flourished it back. "Ah. The Southern Jewel."

He frowned politely, processing this. Sharmista raised her eyebrows. Nifsara lowered hers.

"Forgive me," I said smoothly. "If I am flippant, it is only because I am unaccustomed to the brilliance of King Jalat's retinue."

"Forgive me," Shula said, precisely in the same tone of voice. "If I am ingratiating, it is only because I am unaccustomed to the brashness of Solis Raulbel's daughter. But no matter," he said more naturally, closing his fan. "It is no insult to be praised for one's beauty. How do you find the negotiations, Lady Salisha?"

I sensed a test. I kept my own fan open. Not everybody knows this, but fans can be as much as signals as fripperies. I lowered mine, angling it away from myself in a gesture of indifference. "I have difficulty following it, Lord Shula. The exchange of intellect is too swift." A nothing answer. Public speaking again.

Shula raised his slender black eyebrows above his long-lashed gray eyes. "How cavalier you are in Falena. One might think we were discussing cards, not gold."

I smiled, fluttering the fan. "I'm afraid I'm not even good at cards." I decided to err on the side of dumbness. I had a sense that I couldn't possibly be too smart for this Armes noble, so it would be better to escape his notice entirely.

If he saw through me, he was of course too polite to give any indication. He bowed and continued on his rounds.

The negotiations were concluded the following day. If I remember correctly, Father and Sialeeds called Armes' war-bluff and only had to pay the smallest pittance to keep King Jalat quiet. Those are the events that are recorded in the more thorough history books. I, back then, didn't count my meeting with Shula Valya as something pivotal. And maybe it wasn't. Maybe things would have turned out exactly the same if we hadn't exchanged a few words for a few minutes. Maybe everything now wouldn't have been a whit different.

But maybe not.


	19. Chapter 19

19

When I returned the next summer from my third season at court, I found my house in a bit of a tizzy. There was a middle aged soldier carrying everything he owned on his back, carefully descending our main stairway. I stopped him at the bottom. "Syriac, has Ruel thrown you out?"

Syriac glanced abstractedly at me. He was General Ruel's protégé and had lived for years in the room down the hall from our commander's. "No, my lady," he puffed. "I've graduated. Sir Ruel's bringing in a new student."

"Oh," I said. "Well, congratulations." With a huff, he continued his way out the house.

"Salisha!" Father called, realizing my entry and coming down the stairs. "Melissa! Father. Finally. I thought you'd never make it back."

"The Feitas' flooding finally went down," Mother said, kissing him hello. "We're glad to be back.

Father turned happily to me. I saw his gaze drop just a moment to see if I had a ring on my finger but, no, I was a grand old dame of eighteen who had put off mate-seeking for another year. Chaz, weary from travel, bowed respectfully and left.

After I'd unpacked, I went down to the bathhouse and soaked, dressed, and went walking around town, tallying up all the changes of the past year. I stopped by the apothecary "Hallo, Mir. Happy to have your husband back?"

Mir (Mrs. Chaz) smiled, her youngest sitting on her hip with his fist in his mouth. "Oh yes, my lady. Though I'd be happier if he didn't keep assuring me that you and he slept in different apartments the entire time."

I frowned. "He's really uptight about that."

Mir shrugged. "I don't understand it. At some point, he just got it into his head that I disapproved of his situation whole-handedly. All the proving in the world doesn't help. Now then, don't you look pretty! Still no ring?"

I went glum, and looked it.

She shook her head. "Don't keep putting it off, Salisha. You won't always be pretty."

"You say that like prettiness is my only virtue."

Mir shrugged. "To some men, it is. If you want my advice, I'd look for a marriage of convenience. That way, if you grow tired of each other, you still have a reason to stay together."

I sighed. "Thank you, Mir. I know you mean well. And...I know you're probably right." I looked moodily at several jars of hair tonic. "A love match doesn't make it any more likely to last, does it?" Feeling blue, I dandied my way out of the apothecary, walking the streets. It suddenly struck me, standing the dusty middle of main street, that I knew pretty much everyone in Sable, but I didn't have any friends outside of court.

"Salisha? Oh Salisha, I'm so glad to see you!" someone hooted.

At first I looked to see if there was anyone else named Salisha. Then I turned and saw that Madelon, the bone-setter's daughter, was standing next to me and grinning.

"Hallo," I said, a bit vaguely.

Madelon was several inches shorter than me, divinely curvy and vividly good looking. She had a beautiful mole just under her left eye, and her red hair was bobbed and shingled around her neck and forehead. She was dressed in a tight black sleeveless shirt and tight green breeches with high gray boots. She had a leather brace on her left arm. Oh. This was interesting. Father must have opened the ranks of archers to women, and Madelon must have jumped on it. Not that Sable made a lot of use of archers.

"I'm glad you're back," Madelon said companionably. "I've been dying for someone new to talk to."

I smiled. "Thanks. I'm glad to see you too." I was pleased, but more surprised. Madelon and I hadn't hung out together since we were about ten. I remembered that ten was when I'd had enough of the other kids' suspicions and started learning to amuse myself.

"How was court?" Madelon asked, falling into step beside me as we strolled. I chattered about that, telling her about Kyle and how he'd forgiven me for leaving him on the balcony and he'd made an appointment for a moonlight swim, and I'd sent Chaz down to say I couldn't make it and then some drunk noblewoman who'd been looking for Kyle positively threw herself at poor Chaz... And I talked about the royals, and what I thought of Princess Lymsleia, and who I thought I'd marry. Grand was leaning more and more towards Volga of Lelcar. "I met him at a banquet."

"Did you talk?"

"I talked. He shouted."

"If you marry him, be sure to buy a lot of earplugs."

"Nothing's final yet." My voice was slightly hoarse now, and I felt like listening. "What have you been up to?"

Madelon pantomimed drawing a bow and shooting. "That. Not terribly good yet. Sir Delric says I'm not to go near any of the compact bows. Has me working with the wimpy short ones." She sighed. "I'm on probation, so I have to pay for lessons until Delric says I'm worthy to be trained for life. Problem is, I'm running out of funds." She puckered her forehead, looking imploring. "Do you think you could ask your dad to make me a maid at your house? That would bring in some money, but I'm scared to ask because I shot an arrow through his study window last week. It shattered his inkwell."

"I can ask," I said. "No promises, of course."

She waved her hand. "That's okay."

We'd gotten to the paddocks where several mares were grazing. A sweet-faced dun ambled up for an ear-scratch, and I obliged. "Why do you want to be a maid? It's pretty tame. We don't even make a lot of mess."

Madelon smiled, a dimple appearing in her right cheek. "Well...I do have an ulterior motive." She looked to either side. "Did you hear about Syriac's replacement?"

"I heard it's happening. Who's going to be Ruel's new protege?"

"Dinn!" Madelon squealed.

I had to think a moment. Then my cheeks burned slightly with five year old mortification and my wrist ached. "Oh," I said, glancing at her wryly, "Madelon's going hunting."

"And how. If I can get the chance to see him every day, I'm sure I'll nab him by spring." Her eyes turned a bit dreamy. "A wedding at the end of spring...and then a baby next year."

I was amused. "How does he feel about it?"

Madelon snapped back to reality. "He doesn't know. Or at least, he pretends not to. He's hard to read." She sighed fondly.

I scratched the mare's jaw. Her eyes drooped with sleepy bliss. "I don't know Dinn well, but he's certainly handsome. Great eyes."

"Great shoulders," Madelon corrected. "Oh wow, just last week, I caught him with his shirt off. The soldiers were busy working on the ravine bridge, and they'd all stripped a bit...gorgeous. I brought them water, but I didn't really have a chance to dab at his sweaty brow."

"Well...that's not exactly in the maid's line of duty..."

"But the point is, he'll be there, and so will I. Do you think-" She looked a bit shy. "You'll be eating with him and everything. Put in a good word?"

"Sure."

I went back that evening feeling good. Father celebrated our return with a small feast. Ruel was present, so his new protégé sat at his side and said pretty much nothing. Grand recounted one of the fatal duels that had occurred at court and how wrathfully Commander Ferid had addressed the young men's foolishness. I talked about the royals, and Mother talked about her own cronies. After dinner, I took Father aside and asked about Madelon becoming a maid. Father looked a bit grim, probably thinking of splattered ink.

"It would mean a lot to her," I said, being very selective in what to mention. "She sort of feels she needs to redeem herself."

Father had no defense against that argument, and I sent one of the maids off to tell Madelon the good news. That night I went to bad, glad to be back home where everything was soothingly familiar, where everything was as it should be.

Ha ha.


	20. Chapter 20

20

It was probably about three months after that. Yeah, I think so. I came down one morning to the dining room. It was very early, just a half hour after dawn. Only the servants were normally awake at this time, but I'd slept badly and was yearning for an early start. As I stepped inside, I noticed someone was already at the table, snarfing down a bowl of porridge.

"Dinn? Aren't you supposed to be at South Tower?"

Out of respect, Dinn scaled back his snarfing (it was obviously an effort). "I've come with important news for Lord Raulbel."

Madelon bustled in, wearing an apron, a tray laden with pastries balanced on her shoulder. She placed one down in front of Dinn. "Do you really think they're Sindar? I've heard Falena used to be settled by the Sindar. Or maybe they're from Armes? Old Armes, not New Armes. Oh, good morning, Lady Salisha. You aren't usually up this early."

I waved my hand vaguely, her statement being true, but not one I really wanted to acknowledge. Madelon skittered back into the kitchen to fetch some more flatware.

"What did you find?" I asked, after giving him the chance to snarf his pastry a bit.

"Forgive me, my lady. I had to ride through the night." Ah. Hence the snarfing. "Yesterday afternoon, some artifacts were recovered in the desert. They've been put in South Tower for the time being, pending your father's orders."

"Artifacts? Really? Like what?"

"Several stone tablets, my lady, and some sealed jars."

"Nobody's tampered yet, I hope?"

"We're awaiting your father's counsel, my lady."

"Where were they found?"

"About five miles east of South Tower, well within Falena's borders. One of the tribe shepherd girls found them and brought them to us."

I sat back, thinking things over. "I wonder if they _are_ Sindar..."

Madelon plunked some porridge in front of me, spiced with cinnamon and imported pomegranate seeds. She was getting used to being a good maid. "That was very brave of you, Sir Dinn, to ride through the night and bring this message."

Dinn looked abstractedly up from his porridge. "Thank you, but it was nothing. I had a lantern, and the lower road is perfectly safe."

"Still...bandits..."

"There are no bandits this close to Sable," he assured her. Madelon gave him a bright smile. For a moment, I thought she was going to squeeze his shoulder, but she picked up his bowl. "Would you like a third helping?"

"Yes, thank you."

"I'll get you a muffin too."

I hid my smile behind my napkin. Any man would want a girl that fed him that well. Maybe next time I went to court, I should roll a wagon full of cookies behind me.

I waited until Madelon left so Dinn wouldn't be distracted from her for a moment (playing matchmaker was strangely satisfying) before I spoke. "As soon as Chaz is awake, I'm going to South Tower. I can't wait to see the artifacts. Oh, I hope they manage to break the seal. I've heard of spirits escaping when that happens. I never saw a spirit."

"If my lady has no objections, I will accompany you."

I frowned. "I object. You must be exhausted."

Dinn shook his head. "No, my lady, just hungry. I can rest at the Tower."

"All right. It will probably make Chaz and my reputation feel safer anyway."

Dinn's eyes narrowed humorously. "I assure you, my lady, I am a capable chaperone."

Madelon glanced shifty-eyed at the two of us as she entered, bearing another bowl of porridge. "What are you talking about? My lady," she added belatedly, just barely stopping herself from rolling her eyes.

"We're going to go see the artifacts after breakfast."

"You are? Oh-" She widened her eyes hopefully. "Salisha -er, Lady Salisha, can I have the morning off and go with you? I haven't taken a morning off this whole month."

"Sure."

After breakfast, I changed into riding clothes, a red tunic with wide, batiked sleeves and a high waist, tan breeches underneath, and my tall black riding boots. I came down to find Chaz standing with an already-saddled Sarqa, his own horse at attention behind him. Dinn's lanky albino mare, Spook, was also hitched in the courtyard, her pale tail swishing impatiently. Madelon was dressed in her snug archer's outfit, and Dinn was helping her mount her own horse, holding her lower leg and lifting her astride. She cooed thankfully. I rolled my eyes at Chaz, who probably found it unseemly.

The ride to South Tower takes about three hours at a walk. Sable has three towers along the border wall, creatively named East, South and West Tower, and they are always garrisoned sufficiently to hold off invaders until Sable itself has been alerted.

I enjoyed that walk. It was early fall, which is not so different from summer down south. If you ride high into the mountains, you'll encounter snow (Rocco had taken me up once or twice), but in the lower badlands, it hardly even gets crisp in the winter. The sky was perfectly dyed blue, no variations of color anywhere. There were a lot of birds, having migrated south, and I saw some of young sandcats playing -just barely adult and not wary enough to run while they had the chance. Lucky for them we weren't hunting.

After we'd been riding an hour, Chaz cleared his throat. "My lady, we're losing the other two."

I glanced over my shoulder. Dinn and Madelon were about fifty yards behind, apparently deep in conversation. "I think they'll be all right."

I said matchmaking was strangely satisfying. Do you know what else is satisfying? Walking unannounced into a garrison of young, handsome warriors and watching them all jump to attention and put on their manners. Men can be so likable when you bury their true natures under layers of discipline. I noticed that my presence didn't keep them from chatting up Dinn; he seemed to enjoy a healthy rapport with his subordinates. I wondered if Ruel might be grooming him to take over the garrison in a decade or so. Twenty five was still too young.

The artifacts were fabulous. You might not be as interested in that sort of thing as I am, so I won't go on and on. But if you do like artifacts, you would've loved these: four stone tablets, all so old and obscure we couldn't even guess at the writing. The three jars were sealed tight, all with small stamped sigils on the lid. Chaz guessed that you might need a specific type of rune to open them.

What happened to the artifacts? I'll get that out of the way fast. Father eventually had them sent to Sol Falena where they were studied by various scholars, including Red Killey, whom Dinn tells me he's actually fought alongside. I'd never heard of Red Killey, but apparently he's a name in some circles. No one could make heads or tails of any of the artifacts, and they were entirely lost in the Godwin uprising. I suspect sticky fingers, myself.

None of that is actually important. I thought you just might like to know.

What? You couldn't care less...?

Oh.

We stayed for lunch and headed back for Sable around two in the afternoon, aiming to be home before dinner. Can you guess that didn't happen?

As we were riding, Madelon covertly signaled me to drop back. I reined slow, Chaz glanced at me and apparently judged that I was still safe. Dinn had decided, in lieu of sleeping, to accompany us back to the manor and report directly to Father, so he rode ahead with Chaz.

"What is it?" I asked, swatting irritably at the sting-flies that had congregated on the lower road.

"Just wanted to talk. Man, though... those soldiers. Are you really that used to it?"

"Used to...?"

"All the bowing and 'my lady'ing."

I shrugged. "Of course. They've done that as long as I can remember. It's not really me," I added. "It's just because they've sworn their lives to Father, and I'll be his heir."

"I could never get used to it." Madelon sighed dreamily. "I'd love it if someone referred to me as 'my lady'. It sounds so romantic and devotional."

I thought that over. "Not to me. I think it would be much more romantic to be addressed by my own name."

Madelon was looking ahead again, in more ways than one. "Poor Dinn. He's so tired. Maybe he'll let me get him some coffee when we get back."

"And you can give him a shoulder rub."

"Unlikely."

"Yeah."

"That's the problem with Dinn -he's so reticent. He could be thinking any number of things, and I'll never know!"

I considered what I knew of Dinn's character. It was, admittedly, not much. "Yes. But I think he'd tell you, if he felt you should know."

"What he needs," Madelon said with decision, "is some chivvying along. He needs to be made to express himself."

I glanced sidelong at her.

Her mouth flickered into a smile. "I've actually been planning this for awhile."

"What?" I asked suspiciously.

"Oh, nothing compromising. I'm just going to let myself get thrown from a horse and break my ankle or something. Just to wake Dinn up to his own passion. He'll have to bring me home on the front of his saddle. Chaz has to watch you." She surveyed the terrain. "I'm thinking somewhere a bit further up ahead. I'm pretty sure I can land to break my leg. Salisha, could you do me a favor and scream as you see me and my horse go tearing off?"

I frowned. "That's pretty contrived..."

She grinned. "But once it's happened, there's nothing anyone can do to stop it."

"You seriously want to break a bone just to get a man's attention?"

"It'll awaken his protective, nurturing side."

"If he has one."

Madelon breezed that aside. "Well, that's what we're going to find out. Now, will you please scream? I want this to be good and dramatic."

"Sure, fine," I said. What happened next, I wasn't even slightly aware of. Three sting-flies must have stung Sarqa simultaneously in some tender place, because he gave an almighty pounce, and the next thing I knew, I was streaking past the bewildered Chaz and Dinn and away over the horizon.

Madelon didn't scream for _me_.


	21. Chapter 21

21

Let me make this clear: I am a superb rider. This isn't boasting. The Feitas is wet, and I am a veritable goddess of the hunt on horseback. But even a goddess of the hunt can lose both stirrups as her horse is plunging thirty degrees downhill over incredibly uneven terrain.

When on the back of a wildly careening horse, the human instinct is to lower its center of gravity by clinging for dear life to the horse's neck. Human instinct is stupid that way; leaning forward just makes the horse go faster, and it makes you more aerodynamic when you go flying off the horse's back. The trick is to lean back, of course. The horse slows when you lean back, and you have better balance. I leaned back. Yes, my stirrups were gone, but I was perfectly used to riding without stirrups. In the evenly sanded riding ring.

As I was leaning back, attempting to shift my center of gravity, Sarqa swerved to avoid a small cactus, grazing his shoulder with its sharp spines. He bucked in pain. I probably shot off his back like a cork out of a champagne bottle, but I don't really remember it. I landed on the cactus, shoulder first, rolled off, smacked my leg against the ground, and landed on my back on a very hard, dense boulder.

For a moment, I wasn't in any pain at all. Then I looked at the two-inch spines protruding from my pretty shoulder. Then I glanced down and saw that my left ankle was at a truly extraordinary angle. I lay back and closed my eyes because it seemed to me the best way to face staggering waves of agony.

Chaz?

Chaz?

Chaz -where are you? You're my bodyguard, not being here in my time of need is _ultimately_ unseemly!

The ground was vibrating with rapid hoofbeats. Hooves skidded to a halt, and a bit of sand was thrown across me. I looked up and saw Spook's ruby eyes catching the sun's glare dementedly.

"Where- Chaz? Skin -him-"

"My lady, don't move."

"Get -hands -on -Chaz-"

Dinn had knelt and was examining my ankle. Pity we didn't have a protractor to measure its angle. "Chaz was right after you, my lady. But his horse stumbled, and he fell very hard. Madelon is seeing to him."

"Hurt?"

"I don't know." He glanced back. "He doesn't seem to be."

"Some -bodyguard-"

Just then, Chaz and Madelon approached, Chaz gripping a badly wrenched shoulder. His stoic contrition immediately made me ashamed of my harsh words. "My lady, I have failed you."

"No -your horse failed me. The mountain terrain failed me. It's all right."

Chaz shook his head as he saw my ankle. "No, my lady. No, it's not."

Terror bolted through me. "What? It's just broken, right? We can get a water rune."

Madelon bit her lower lip. "I don't know. Water runes don't always cure breaks. You might have a limp."

A limp! Limps were for old men! "No," I said sternly. "I'm sure it will be fine. It will." Sun blast anyone who thought otherwise.

Dinn compressed his lips grimly. "We need to return. Ride in front of me, my lady."

"Oh!" said Madelon, as if struck. When we all turned to her, she glared and said, "Well- she can ride with me. Yes, I think that would be better. Spook's still too young to carry two."

"Ride Sarqa," Chaz suggested to Dinn. "It would be unseemly if we warriors left the duty of our loyalty to a maid."

"No, really, I don't mind-" Madelon spluttered.

_I _did. As gentle as Chaz and Dinn attempted to be, there is nothing comfortable about being picked up and propped up on your own feckless horse (Sarqa was giving me the oddest looks, as if to say, "What is _wrong_ with you? Why are you so clumsy?" Horses never take blame for anything.). Dinn tied Spook's reins to Sarqa's stirrup ring. He took a moment to adjust the stirrup lengths, then mounted behind me and took the reins. Our brave little foursome strode onwards.

I was very tempted to relax back against Dinn, (after all, he's terribly handsome and his arms were sort of around me) but I was also much smarter than that. Madelon kept flinging me accusing looks. I kept flinging her looks that I hoped were translated as, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm innocent, _I_ wasn't the one who wanted a broken leg, okay?" So I continued to sit tall.

Maybe I was even stiff. "Are you in pain, my lady? We can halt the horses to rest."

I was in a huge amount of pain. "Let's keep going. Unless Chaz-?"

"I can cope, my lady."

We had to ride slowly, so it was closer to six-thirty in the evening by the time we returned. Nobody was worriedly waiting for us in the courtyard -they probably just assumed we'd discussed the artifacts an hour longer. But Father, Mother, Grand, and Ruel looked up in complete surprise when Dinn carried me into the dining room, bloody shoulder, broken ankle and all. Chaz followed, stoically refusing to rub his arm in front of his lord.

I tell you. It was a heart-twisting picture. I was put to bed right away, and Dinn was sent to find someone with a water rune. Robaro came. He was able to cure the cactus-stings and lessen some of the pain, but he couldn't help the bone, so then we called Madelon's mom, the bone-setter. Madelon told me, with considerable enthusiasm, that I'd probably be bedridden for six weeks or more.

I stared up at her in despair. "What -no, I can't-"

"You will if you have to," Mother said impressively with a certain look in her eye. "You don't want it to heal badly. It could ruin your riding."

I settled sulkily back into my pillows.

"I will redeem myself, my lady," Chaz told me fervently. "I will never again be so careless. I will watch over you night and day. Well..." He added, eyes a bit troubled. "At day, certainly. I think watching you at night would be-"

"Go home and rest, Chaz. You haven't disgraced yourself, and that will make me happiest for now."

"But, my lady-"

I resisted the urge to heave a pillow at him. "Don't contradict your lady. It's unseemly."

He bowed. "Of course."

Mother fluffed my pillow. "We'll try to make you as happy and comfortable as possible."

Oh, happy, happy me.


	22. Chapter 22

22

There is nothing worse than being stuck in bed all day, every day, for six weeks. Torture doesn't even touch it. Being hung, drawn and quartered is soothing by comparison. The boredom is not, as they say, mind-numbing. Oh no, not at all. Boredom is painful; it creates a sort of mental agony that carves through your head like a sabre. You can read in bed, if you like reading. I like reading, and I got sick of it. I tried writing. For the first time in my life, I attempted to start a journal. I still have it. Let's see, here's an entry-

_Am so tired of being stuck in bed. So want to talk to people. Am waiting for letters. Letters do not come fast enough. Have no more use for pronouns. Need to tinkle._

I didn't keep up the journal for long.

People visited me, of course. They put on their, "Oh, poor Salisha" faces and talked about how much they wished I was better. Then they went off and had fun. Mother and Father were better -they actually talked about what they were doing- but of course they couldn't sit with me whenever I wanted them. Rocco visited me, and we had a wonderful long discussion about the past, present and future, but he couldn't come up every day.

One day some weeks later, I was lying in bed (of course), hopeless with boredom. Outside, I could hear a horse being trained in one of the practice rings. The sound of its hooves on the sand made me want to gallop. I shoved the book I was reading onto my bedside table, sat up on my pillows and sipped some water. I wanted to talk. Chaz was at his home. The door to my room was open, and I called out, "Hello? Is anyone there?"

I heard footsteps, and Ruel poked his head in. "Yes, my lady?"

"Are you very busy right now?"

"I'm afraid so, my lady. We're doing the yearly weaponry and armament inventory."

"Oh," I said glumly.

"However, if my lady requires something, I can certainly spare the time to procure it."

I smiled, touched by his generosity. "Oh no. I just wanted to talk to someone. But if you're busy, by all means, carry on."

Ruel looked thoughtful. "If you would like, I can haul Sir Dinn up here to talk with you. I know that he's free this afternoon."

"Very well. Thank you, Ruel." I hadn't seen much of Dinn since being confined to bed. He seemed like he could be pleasant company. As Ruel left, I considered it more seriously. If he was indeed to be Ruel's successor (as I now strongly suspected), it was important for me to get to know him. The military is Sable's most important asset; the city's leader and the general of the garrison need to operate in full cooperation for things to run smoothly.

Dinn seemed a bit at-odds with being alone with me in my bedroom, but of course it was fine. The door was wide open with Ruel right down the hall, his door open, probably more than happy to put aside his inventory in favor of eavesdropping. Dinn seated himself in the chair by my bed where everybody sat when they came to commiserate.

First I grilled him about what was going on outside, how many recruits were being trained, which mares had foaled, what the weather was like, who was getting married, what news he'd heard from the north, the recent skirmishes with Armes bandits and who'd made his new boots. Then I moved onto the subject of the local horses, which took up a half hour, then I asked him about his sword and how on earth could anyone use that thing, which took up almost another hour.

Eventually, I employed my court-trained conversational skills to bring the subject around to Madelon. She still hadn't forgiven me for "stealing" her wonderful plan, and I was fed up with her flinty demeanor. Putting in several good words for her with Dinn would probably heal the rift.

"Do you think Sir Ruel will be making any use of the archers in defending the wall?" I asked.

"Possibly. Archers can be useful, but so much of our fighting is done at close range. Archers are only a liability then."

I nodded. "I ask because I know Madelon's eager to see some real combat. I can't understand it myself, but I guess she just has the warrior's instinct."

Dinn nodded, eyes growing a bit blank. Hm. What could _that_ mean? Was he trying not to look to interested at the mention of Madelon?

I decided to press the issue. "What do you think of her, Dinn? Do you think she has what it takes to be a fighter?"

"I could not judge that, my lady," he said neutrally.

"You certainly could," I retorted. "You're Sir Ruel's protégé. Part of his job is to judge the potential of warriors."

Dinn looked uneasy. "It is not for me to say, then."

I sat up straighter. This was interesting. I didn't think Dinn would hesitate to praise her, so I assumed his answer meant he didn't have confidence in her. This didn't bode well for Madelon's prospects, professionally or romantically. "Still, she's a kind-hearted and intelligent girl."

Dinn's face was still blank. "Intelligence is an asset to a warrior, yes."

I wasn't talking about a warrior, Dinn, I was talking about the girl who's in love with you. "Perhaps with more training, her potential as an archer could be realized."

"Possibly, my lady."

"Not probably? Dinn, do you think she can't succeed as an archer?"

Dinn frowned. "I feel she lacks a realistic view of warfare, my lady."

"Ah," I said, feeling bleak for Madelon's sake. "Well, she has other ambitions, I know. She wants very much to be a wife and mother. If she can't be an archer, I'm sure her romantic prospects will keep her more than occupied."

Dinn nodded vaguely. He didn't seem very interested in the turn of conversation. Well, I could change that.

"What about you, Dinn?" I asked. "What are _your_ romantic prospects?"

"M-My lady?"

"Oh, don't be coy."

"I wasn't-"

"You most certainly were. Now then-" I took a fan from the bedside table and began waving it complacently. "I am far too well-bred to mention that I know a young lady who is quite interested in you. I am also far too polite to mention how eager she is to know your state of mind concerning her. I am also altogether too mannerly to demand that you bare your heart to me in this matter. But I am quite curious -are you planning on getting married?"

I think halfway through my little speech, Dinn had begun to run through a mental line-up of all the unmarried girls in Sable, trying to guess who I was talking about. He winced several times before he got around to my question. "I am not currently planning on that, no, my lady."

It was very interesting to see this superbly disciplined warrior fumbling like this. "But there are so many pretty girls in Sable, aren't there?"

"Er -yes, of course, my lady. But -I am very busy."

"Too busy to make sheep eyes at any of them?"

"Sheep eyes, my lady?"

I demonstrated sheep eyes to him. He grimaced.

"But being busy is part of your problem. You need a little wife to-"

"A what?"

"A little wife who can-"

"Little?"

"-organize things for you and cook for you and rub your feet for you and contradict you and run your life generally. It's what every man needs."

Dinn stared at me, frowning, his eyes widened. I think I saw a bit of horror in their depths.

I started shaking all over with laughter. When he realized that I'd only been needling him for fun, he relaxed. When I'd recovered myself, he cleared his throat and said, "My lady, I also am altogether too civil to pry but...I will anyway. Who is this curious young woman?"

I shook my head, wondering if he thought it might be me. "I can't betray her confidence."

"Of course, my lady."

"I will say that I think you can do much worse than her." _Even if you don't seem very impressed with her at present._ "I'm sorry I surprised you like that, though. I've been so terribly bored."

He glanced at the heavy splint around my ankle. "I imagine it can't be very pleasant. Not much longer though."

I sighed longingly. "The first thing I'm going to do when I can get back up is ride and ride and ride. The second thing will be to start clamoring for court again. I miss it. And no," I said sharply, "you may not use this opportunity to bring up_ my_ marital prospects."

"As my lady forbids." Once again, his voice was just a bit too bland to be sincere.

"Well," I said, "I've kept you here long enough, I suppose. You're free to go."

Dinn stood. "It was my pleasure, my lady. I hope you recover soon."

"You'd better watch out."

At the door, Dinn looked back. "I...beg your pardon, my lady?"

I smiled. "There are so many girls in Sable, and there are so many corners in Sable, and you never know when one may be lurking behind the other ."

Rolling his eyes heavenward a moment, Dinn walked out the door.


	23. Chapter 23

23

I actually didn't get to court that year. My ankle healed it time, but Father wanted me home. He said it was about time he begin educating me in earnest. After all, when I became the leader of Sable, I'd be young and callow, but I didn't have to be altogether ignorant. I, who usually enjoyed reading, found myself looking up from enormous tomes of trade policy at the slanting summer sunshine outside. I had difficulty settling my mind on the subjects; the principles just seem to filter through me, like water through a sieve. For the first time in my life, I felt genuinely thickheaded and stupid.

With some sadness, I finally retired Sarqa and began training a new horse, a little dark bay mare named Kiani. She was sweet and intelligent, and easily distracted by Sarqa. The old lech ogled her throughout every training session.

It was a hammer-hot afternoon in midsummer as I was sitting on the front steps, combing my just-washed hair, when a strange rider trotted dustily through our front gate. I stared for a moment, wondering who on earth it could possibly be, when I suddenly jumped to my feet. "Donna? Sun above, is that you?"

The lady of Estrise looked wearily down at me from the height of her horse, her white-blonde hair wind-fluffed, her eyes dark. Her three year old son, Kurtz, was on the saddle in front of her.

"Is something wrong?" I asked, coming to her stirrup. She handed me Kurtz, who squirmed mightily, and I placed him on the ground. He backed suspiciously away from me, then looked around, curiosity entering his big eyes.

Donna sighed as she dismounted. "I'm sorry to intrude, Leesh, but could you put us up for...a bit?"

"Of course, but tell me what's wrong!"

Donna shook her head. She was wearing traveling clothes, a long dark green tunic over black riding pants and boots. I saw that her stomach, usually trim, was somewhat distended. "I'll tell you after we've had a bit of a rest. It's nothing serious. At least...Well, I'll tell you. Kurtz, get away from that burro."

"You'd better," I insisted, my worry for her instantly slaying all my manners. I couldn't begin to guess what had brought her here -Had there been a catastrophe in Estrise? Was she fleeing for her life? I ushered her and Kurtz into our bathhouse, then ran to have the maids get a guest room ready. When Donna and Kurtz emerged, they'd both changed out of their traveling clothes into more comfortable attire. Donna's loose blue dress hid her stomach, but I was fairly certain she was at least three months pregnant. They sat down wearily at our dining table. The maids had brought tea and some light food.

"Well?"

"Not just yet." Donna waited until Kurtz had eaten, then she took him back to their room and told him to nap. I could barely hold in my questions as we walked onto the balcony.

"_Well?"_

Donna flashed me an irritated look. "No, it's not well. It's -it's- IT'S IDIOTIC!" Then she sat down primly.

I stared. "Go on."

"He's idiotic," Donna snapped.

I sat next to her, on the bench swing we'd just put up. "Lord Boz?"

"Lord Bozo. Lord Consummate Idjit."

I raised my eyebrows. I'd never met Lord Wilde, but Donna had rarely ever said anything negative about him. Certainly never called him Bozo...

"There's been some sort of rift?"

"There's been a parting of ways," Donna said grimly.

I sat up. "What? You can't mean-"

"I certainly can," Donna shot back.

I was staggered. Divorces occur, but only rarely. Only in the most drastic circumstances. "What -what did he do?" I ran my eyes over her. Her dress was a bit low in the front and her arms were bare, and I didn't see any visible bruises but-

Donna tightened her lips.

"Donna?" I touched her arm. "Are you all right?"

"Of course I'm all right."

"What did...Why are...why are you getting a divorce?"

"Because-" She gesticulated angrily. "Because he's an idiot!"

I blinked. "What?"

"I think I made myself clear."

"You mean he hasn't abused you or-"

Donna swung around to face me. "That man cares more about his selfish whims than me!"

Her eyes were glittering. I was afraid to open my mouth, but my mouth went ahead and opened anyway. "How so?"

Donna clenched her hands. "He won't -get a hair cut."

Major letdown.

"What?" I said, for, hm, the fourth time.

"You heard me!"

I collected myself. "I meant to say, 'Why on earth are you getting a divorce over him not getting a hair cut?'" I honestly couldn't believe it. "Donna, husbands everywhere are fathering illegitimate children and beating their wives into putty, and you-"

"It's not just the hair cut! It's the principle." She took a deep breath. "All I asked was that he consider my wishes, and he whole-handedly refused to give an inch! Refused to! And-" She brandished her finger at me. "As you say, a hair cut is hardly important, is it? Is it? But if he won't be reasonable on the little matters, there's no way he'll be reasonable when it's important. How can I live with a man like that?" She breathed hard, apparently waiting for my reply. "Well? How can I?"

"Uh- I think -Calm down, Donna. What exactly happened?"

She sighed and leaned back, crossing her arms. "It started six days ago. I asked him to get a hair cut. He said no. I asked him to consider it. He said no. I told him it was Very Important to me. He said sorry, but no. I said that he must love that hair cut more than me. He said that hair cut was more important to me than he was. I said certainly not, I just didn't want to be married to an enormous hedgepig. He said like hell he looks like a hedgepig."

She glanced at my raised eyebrows. "Well, fine, eventually I said I'd leave him if he didn't get his hair cut. He said that if something as stupid as a hair cut was that important to me, he was better off without me." She disguised a sniff as a snort. "So I packed up and left and took Kurtz without telling him." She crossed her legs. "No more than he deserved, if he couldn't see that it was about much more than a hair cut."

I rubbed my forehead. If this was a typical example of marital bliss, I might settle down to a life of celibacy.

A throat was cleared. "My lady...?"

I looked up "Yes, Dinn, what is it?"

Dinn flicked a glance at Donna, who looked icy cool enough to start melting. "Perhaps it would be advisable to discuss this matter elsewhere."

"No," Donna snapped. "No, Salisha, don't halt business just because of me. Life must trundle on, right? Right. Go on, discuss business. Don't Mind Me."

I resisted the impulse to scoot away from her. "Very well. Dinn?"

"Ah...yes, I bring word from your father at East Tower."

I sorted through my mind. Father? East Tower? Oh yes, he and Ruel had gone to review the garrison there. "Yes?"

"He finds he will be compelled to spend the night at the tower. He desires several reference books and informs me that you know-"

"Lady Salisha?"

I looked over. "Yes, Madelon?"

Madelon was rubbing her elbow. "You have, um, a visitor."

"Oh," I said, having some difficulty staying abreast of events. "Well, I should receive him. Dinn, Donna, if you would excu-"

"DONNA!" roared a loud masculine voice from directly under us.

Donna's eyes flashed. She stood, squared her shoulders and stomped over to her guest room, slamming the door behind her. Just then, an enormous brown cape stalked onto the balcony, filled to bursting with a very tense man. I reflected, after a moment, that his hair did remind me a bit of hedgepig. A hedgepig with an enormous, foot-high mohawk, ending with long hair in the back. It took me another moment to register Lord Boz Wilde's broad, angular face. He looked around, clenching and unclenching his fists. "Well? Where is she?"

I swallowed. "You wish to see Lady Wilde?"

"I sure as hell do!" he thundered.

Madelon went pale and retreated. Dinn glanced towards the door, but I made a slight grabbing motion for him, and he was compelled to stay. "I am afraid," I said, speaking slowly and wishing I had my fan to hide behind, "that she is not receiving... visitors at present."

"I'm not a visitor," Lord Boz insisted, his face earnest and angry. "I'm her husband!"

"Yes. Well." I realized that I was twiddling my thumbs anxiously and stopped. "We must honor her wishes, of course."

"I don't have to," Lord Boz said stridently. "Where is she?" He started walking towards the door.

Discipline is truly awe-inspiring. Dinn stepped smoothly between the enormous lord and the door. "The lady of the house has spoken," he said evenly. "You will not trouble her guests."

Boz shot a livid glare in my direction. In another moment, his eyes changed, and I jumped as I realized they'd gone moist. "Listen," he said. "I'm not trying to cause a ruckus, but I need to see my wife. Where is she? Where's my son? Please, I need to see them!"

I compressed my lips, his obvious pain upsetting me. "I- She wants-"

"I know what she wants," Lord Boz interrupted. He folded his arms across his wide chest and began to pace the balcony, east to west, west to east, shaking the floor boards slightly. "She wants a divorce. Oh, I know."

I was totally nonplussed. I glanced at Dinn, but he was only regarding Lord Boz with detachment. How to proceed? What would Queen Arshtat do?

I drew myself up. "Lord Boz, please calm down."

"I'm calm!"

"Donna has told me she wants a divorce because you refuse to consider her wishes."

Lord Boz pulled up short. "That's not it at all! She only cares about how I look!"

"Well..." I faltered.

"We've been married for five years," Lord Boz said, "and I've never once hit her, or been mean to her, or not let her have her way in anything. I've always respected her opinion! But that doesn't mean I have to do everything she says."

"Well, no..."

"She's just being stubborn! I never told her I wanted her to leave! I never told her I wanted a divorce! And I never told her to take Kurtz away!"

"So -so you don't want a divorce?"

"Of course not! I want my family back!"

"But your wife refuses to come back unless you, er, get a hair cut."

Lord Boz clenched his jaw. "I can't believe it's that important to her. After all I've done for her -I won't do it!"

I waved my hands helplessly. "Every relationship requires concessions-"

"But not outright bending over backwards just to please a prejudice!"

"A prejudice!" Donna shouted in the doorway. "This is more than just a prejudice, I'll have you know, this is you not being able to be told you're wrong about something!"

Lord Boz whirled. "Listen here, Donna-"

"Listen?" She advanced angrily. "Haven't I heard enough?"

I nodded at Dinn and rose. Dinn stepped between me and the combatants, and we started edging towards the door.

"You come right back here, Salisha!" Donna shouted. "I'm going to need witnesses for the trial!"

Dinn glanced at me. I sighed heavily and slumped against the wall, arms over chest. Shaking his head slightly, Dinn turned to watch the proceedings.

"You oaf, you don't care about anyone's feelings but your own!"

"Well- well, neither do you, apparently!"

"Oh, now it's my fault? Somehow it's _my_ fault you won't a hair cut?"

"It's your fault the hair cut is such a big issue!"

"If you didn't think it was important, why didn't you get it cut in the first place?"

"You have no right to tell me how I should look-"

"See! You don't care about my opinions!"

"I heard your opinion! And then I decided it was total-"

"Why did I even marry you in the first place? I could've married Lord DeBeers! Lord DeBeers has the grace to be bald, and at least _he_ knows how to swim!"

"Bu- wha- why are you bringing up the swimming thing?"

"If you had any sense, you'd learn how to swim, you irrational galoot!"

"I don't see how this makes a difference!"

"It makes all the difference in the world! It shows you're an unreasonable-"

"Why won't you let me be who I am, Donna? Do you want to be married to someone who isn't me?"

Donna sniffed hard, tears splurting out of her eyes. "I just wish you didn't have that mohawk!"

Boz's voice broke. "But I _like_ my mohawk! How can you possibly hate it more than you love me?"

I grabbed Dinn's wrist. "Let's go." We went, just as Donna had burst into tears, and Lord Boz had folded her in an enormous hug.

Once safely indoors, I blinked hard and looked at Dinn. "I'm never getting married."

He nodded a bit wearily. "A not uninformed decision, my lady."


	24. Chapter 24

24

Estrise is wonderful.

After the Wildes' joyous reconciliation, Donna invited me to spend the rest of the summer in Estrise. Father probably saw that my studies were making more headaches than headway and allowed me to go, and Chaz and I left a bare week later.

Estrise is _wonderful._ Like Donna, I fell in love with the ocean. My happiest recollection of that summer is a night I spent walking along the beach, well unto midnight. I'd never seen anything so beautiful or powerful, ageless and unrelenting. Boz and Donna took me boating, which was very different from boating along the Feitas. I saw dolphins and one manatee. One time when we sailed far out, we saw a pod of mermaids, lithe people with fishy legs. They regarded us a bit warily, but one lifted a finny arm and waved.

I don't know where you (whoever you are) come from, but I'd never seen sea shells before. I mean, I'd seen them at court; lots of women wear them in their hair or clothing, lacquered to a pearly unnatural shrine. And sometimes food is served in little clam shells that have been edged in gold. But I'd never seen them scattered which-way on a beach, certainly never stepped on one (which can extremely painful, especially while wading in salt water). Donna showed me an enormous spirally snail shell, as wide as my arm is long, just a curving pile of alabaster and pearl. So pretty, yes. But then she described the snail that might've lived in it once...

I also tried to make a sand castle. It was sort of a sand hut. Huts are nice.

For the first time in my life, I left Falena. I only got as far as Nirva Island, but it is an offshoot of the Island Nations. I saw the most amazing people there -these enormous upright cats that talk and wear clothing. Donna called them Nay-Kobolds, and said that even further north there are ones shaped like dogs. They're a bit like the Beaver People, but I absolutely cannot get used to them.

The sight of Nirva Island and the turquoise waters beyond it caused a new hunger in me. Those waters could be crossed; people did it every day. Someday, I wanted it to be me. I still do. Someday I will go north, to the mainland, to the Scarlet Moon Empire, the kingdom of Highland, and even to the reaches of Holy Harmonia. Someday, I want to be the person who comes back tells about all the strange things she's seen.

Someday.

I also learned how to swim, after a fashion. Donna and Kurtz taught me and took turns laughing at how horribly bad I was. I floundered around in the big slapping, punching waves, and I swallowed more than my weight in salt water, and I got a horrible smeary pink rash from being stung by a jellyfish, but I did have fun. Chaz turned out to be pretty good at swimming, and tried not to show how much he enjoyed it.

Kurtz also taught me an Estrise game one evening when he was bored. It involves taking a ball and throwing it through a horizontal ring set in a wall. I was horribly bad at that too. In fact, one of the only things I was good at was consuming sea food.

By the time I left, Donna's new baby was well on its way. Little Keith Wilde was born in late fall, and I would've gone north to visit, except that, well, I had other things on my mind at that point.


	25. Chapter 25

25

Dinn was killed on my twentieth birthday.

I made you jump, no?

But it's true.

It was earliest morning, probably not even an hour into my birthday, the time when the day is just as dark as night. I was wrapped in thick folds of sleep when I heard a pealing shriek. _Bad dreams_, I thought before I rolled over.

Looking back, I can say it was the first real bad dream of my life. Not the worst.

Another scream. I sat up in bed, breathing hard. The room was reddish dark, a wild display of firelight launched across my bedroom wall. I saw more firelight from my open window.

_The house is on fire!_

I lunged out of bed. I don't know how I avoided getting caught up in the blankets and falling to a broken neck, but I made it to the window. I tried to sort out what I was seeing. I saw the small blaze of fire. Its brightness left vivid patches on my vision before I realized what was burning: a human body, strung by the neck to Sable's front flagpole. Its heavy boots thunked dully against the iron pole, stirred by the wind. A large crowd had already gathered at the pole's base.

I covered my mouth with my hand, feeling -feeling not horrified. Feeling absolutely unreal. The horror and nausea were slow in coming, and by then, my heart was beating too rapidly for me to stand still. I rushed out of my room. _I shouldn't leave the house -is there a revolt -where is-_

I dashed out onto the balcony, gripping the railing. The crowd was growing larger. I recognized many faces in the contrasting light and shadows, but none of them seemed familiar.

I whirled off the balcony and down the stairs. It was stupid to go rushing into potential danger, but I didn't care. I had to know what was happening. I had to know _now_.

There was a small crowd at the front door, also moving out. I ran right into Dinn, who grabbed me by the shoulders and wordlessly slung me behind him. I was hardly rational. I followed him out. I saw Grand, who flashed me a concerned look, his eyes grim. As I passed, he latched his one arm around my shoulders, forcing me to a halt.

"What's going on?" I demanded.

"A murder," Grand said coldly. "Of a sort. Damned cowards." His voice was disdainful, yet he kept his arm tightly around me, protectively.

"Who?" I demanded, hysteria closing in around me. "_Who_?"

"Quiet, Salisha!"

"Who-"

"It's no one. It's just an effigy. Look."

I stared up. The burning figure swung in the air above us.

"Are you sure?"

"It's shedding straw."

Small puffs of smoke were spiraling away from the figure, charred straw on the breeze.

My heart rate had calmed somewhat, but that let my thoughts back in. "Who are they supposed to be burning?" _Not Father. Not Father._

"Dinn, actually."

I sighed with relief. No one crucial then. "Why?"

Grand probably would've answered, but now several of the soldiers had cast their water runes, drenching the dummy in the several short blasts. Most of the firelight faded, but I could clearly see that the victim was nothing more than cloth, straw and clothes.

Sir Ruel's voice rose above the crowd, thoroughly lambasting all of us for dignifying this farce with our presence. Nodding his agreement, Grand turned and steered me back towards the house. We sat in the dining room.

I grasped at the loose thoughts swirling around in my head. "Ruel's going to appoint Dinn as his replacement?"

"He certainly is," Grand replied, carefully lighting a lamp with one hand. "And he's making the right choice, in my opinion. I judged that boy's worth seven years ago, and I wasn't wrong."

"Someone's angry because he's not from Sable, right?"

"Doesn't take a genius to figure that out." Grand eased himself into the chair across from me. "We were expecting some opposition, but nothing so vainglorious as this." He snorted. "Burning in effigy. What's next? If you want to kill a man, you go out and do it, not sit in your cellar stuffing dummies."

Some of the household staff had begun to trickle in by then, wide eyed and yapping amongst themselves. Grand glared, but when they didn't stop, he brought his fist down on the table and ordered them all to bed. By then, Mother had come in. She directed some maids to make coffee and joined us at the table, rubbing her forehead. She glanced around, trying to make light on the situation. "All that bother for nothing. I suppose it's better than the opposite."

Father clumped wearily in, followed by a blank-faced Dinn. I studied him, wondering what he was thinking. Probably combinations of words I'd never even heard of.

"Did you find out who's behind it?" Mother asked.

Father dropped tiredly into a chair (Dinn remained standing, I noticed.) "Certainly not."

Grand glowered. "They go to all the trouble to set this up, and no one's willing to take the credit. Hmph. Who would?" A maid came in with coffee and left as fast as she could. Grand took a gulp of his. "This is your fault, Solis. This is what happens when there's no discipline among the ranks!"

"It wasn't necessarily soldiers that did this," Mother said, leveling a "shut up" look at Grand.

Father rubbed the skin between his eyes. "We will certainly make every attempt to find these miscreants. Of course," he turned to Dinn, "tonight's episode doesn't change anything."

Dinn nodded grimly. I suddenly felt guilty about my cavalier attitude towards his "death", guilty, cruel and stupid. This was my future garrison general we were discussing here, the future head of my military.

"You two should go to bed," Father said to Mother and me. "We'll wait here to see what Ruel hears."

"No," I said, quite automatically.

Father's face went stern. "Go to _bed_, Salisha."

I was getting into a mood. "_Why_?"

"Because tonight's threat might not be over," Grand snapped, "and you're more use to us cowering under your blankets than yipping down here."

I bit my lower lip, incensed. "Don't order me around," I said slowly.

"Salisha," Mother said, "they're right. Let's go."

Simple, calm words were my defeat just then. I sat up and stalked back up to my room. The sounds of searching and activity continued on through the darkness, and I eventually drifted off into an uneasy sleep. That didn't stop the bad dream, however.

Happy Birthday, Salisha.


	26. Chapter 26

26

Of course, when I came down to breakfast, everyone important who had been up half the night was in bed. I fumed through breakfast, verbally flailing them all for leaving me out of the loop, then I went outside to see if I could find some news myself. Chaz was waiting for me just outside the door, and he wordlessly fell into step beside me as I walked down the front steps.

"Any news?"

Chaz shook his head.

I looked over at the flagpole. "Where's the effigy?"

"Destroyed. They tried to see if they could recognize the clothes, but it was just a trainee tunic and pants."

"Hm. I suppose anyone could get hold of those." I glanced at Chaz' perturbed face. "Don't worry, I am not going to conduct this investigation on my own. I don't have any skills like that. In fact, if I actually get to hear any news around here, it's a miracle!" I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself. "Does Father have anyone investigating?"

"Yes, my lady. He's sent some men to Lordlake to meet with a detective agency stationed there. They should be here within a few days."

I sighed. "I suppose in the meantime we'll be on the lookout for anyone suspicious. And, with Sable on edge, that will be everybody." I leaned against a paddock fence. Several foals bumbled over and began to chew on the hem of my tunic. I scratched their backs. "Does Dinn have any enemies?"

Chaz looked thoughtful. "I think the outrage stems from the fact that he wasn't born in Sable."

"And the people of Sable think they're entitled to one of their own. That's stupid. Especially in this case. I mean, they didn't balk at Dinn being a cavalry commander. They certainly don't complain when he drives bandits back. And isn't the military supposed to be a meritocracy?"

Chaz shook his head resignedly. "Everyone has their boundaries, my lady. Sir Ruel has just crossed one for several people."

I looked at him sidelong. "Do you... think this will get worse?"

"Incidents will probably occur as long as they remain anonymous. But I don't think anyone's life is in danger."

"But -the effigy?" I pressed, still feeling guilty over my own heartlessness last night.

Chaz shrugged with one shoulder. "It could be in earnest. It could also be a show of empty bravado. It could also just be the result of too many tankards of beer."

I fondled one of the foal's ears. He licked my bare arm, leaving a slimy ribbon of saliva. Then he attempted to suck on my elbow. "How does Dinn feel about all this?"

Chaz raised his eyebrows. "Who can tell? I'm not one of his close friends. You'd have to ask Sir Ruel or one of the other cavalry commanders."

"I suppose." I sighed. "And I'm guessing that I'm not allowed to go riding abroad?" Chaz nodded. "And I can't go anywhere in town without an escort?" Chaz nodded. "Well...I think I'll go inside then." Chaz nodded.

I stayed inside. I wrote a letter to Donna and Boz, and attempted to write one to Volga of Lelcar. Father had suggested we strike up a correspondence. I glanced over Volga's latest letter, searching for inspiration.

_Dear Lady Salisha,_

_The weather is good. The kids have been playing in the water every day. Lord Orok is being a (smudge) (smudge) idiot over the new tariff laws, and Wasil is just mumbling into his (smudge) hat like a (smudge) that can't even (smudge) (smudge) (smudge). Heard word that there's some sort of (smudge) war up in Scarlet Moon, but be (smudge) if I can get any straight story about it. Hope the letter finds you well._

_Yours truly, Volga_

I sighed. If he hadn't erased all the swear words, it would've been a much more interesting read. I reflected on some of my etiquette lessons and replied with

_Dear Lord Volga,_

_Your charming letter found me very well._

Did charming sound like I was trying to win him over? I erased it.

_Your (smudge) letter found me very well._

Oh dear. He'd think I was cussing out his letter. I ripped up that sheet of paper and started anew.

_Dear Lord Volga,_

_Your letter found me very well, thank you. I'm glad things are going so well in Lelcar, at least for the kids. I must mention again how much I admire you for taking them in. I hope to meet them when I visit Lelcar this spring. Hopefully by then the difficulties among you and the other lords will have been smoothed out -I'm sure you can come to some compromise. As for Scarlet Moon, I've only heard rumors that there is some confusion as to who will take the throne. Hopefully, the Island Nations will continue to separate Falena from any overspilling strife in the north._

_I'm afraid I have to cut this letter short, as I find I have a great deal to do this morning. But I hope to hear from you again soon._

_Yours truly, Salisha._

Eeee-yuck.

I crumpled the letter up and tossed it in the trash bin.

So then I got up to see if anything was happening downstairs, and en route I nearly rammed into Dinn. "Any news?"

"No, my lady," he clipped and walked past.

Brrrrrr. Well, I suppose it was justified.

I walked around town some more, Chaz stalking after me. I walked into Sable's best inn and tavern, the White Ox (its famous sign hung straight from the white ox's teeth, as his stuffed head had been mounted on the wall four years ago; never mind their taste in decorating, the food is good.) The tavern was one enormous buzz over the effigy. I tried talking to some of the people, but they clammed up. Oh yes, I'm Lord Solis' daughter. Still his spy after all these years. I sat at a table and nursed a lemonade as lingeringly as if it had been a rock hard rum. A good move. After a few minutes, the clientele forgot I was there.

"It's just bigotry, in my opinion," Arn, a red-haired soldier around my age was saying, his blue eyes bright.

"It's not bigotry," his companion, an older man named Gyf, said. "It makes no sense to entrust our military -the defense of Falena's southern border- to a foreigner."

"What foreigner?" Arn demanded. "He's as Falenan as you or me."

Gyf narrowed his eyes. "There's more to being part of Sable than just living here. Sable is a way of life."

Arn rolled his eyes exaggeratedly. "Which he's lived for what, seven years? Psssh, you haven't been able to form full sentences for seven years, Gyffie."

Gyf's expression went as sour as a lemon. After a moment, he flung some coins across his table, chipping the wood a bit, and stomped out of the tavern. Arn sighed and shook his head. He picked up a coin and began to absently gouge the surface of the table. He blushed when he saw me watching him. "It just makes me angry, my lady."

"Of course it does," I said easily, already planning on how I'd get him to talk to me. I knew that there was one simple tact no man could refuse:

Sex.

Just kidding. Actually, no man can resist talking about himself. At least, it certainly seems that way sometimes.

"Who do _you_ think did it?"

Arn glanced around. "May I join you, my lady?" I nodded, and he sat across from me, taking a gulp of heavily-diluted rum. "If I can be frank, my lady, there are all different mindsets concerning this. I mean, some people just don't care who's the General, just as long as they're safe in their beds. Dinn has a lot of partisans too, especially in the cavalry. They'll be pretty, er, peeved if he's passed over just because he wasn't born here."

"They're loyal?"

"Definitely. And then there are people like that bas- uhm, man, Gyf."

I shook my head. "What are they afraid of? Do they think Dinn's an Armes spy?"

Arn bared his teeth a moment. "They're pi- put out because Dinn's taking what they feel is rightfully there's. They call him an interloper and a usurper." He flicked an assessing look at me. "Pretty big words for the likes of them."

I had the distinct impression that anything I said might be carried down through the town; I suddenly felt very unequal to this conversation and fell back on caution. "Of course all the concerns of the people of Sable will be heard by my father. He's not a tyrant. I'm sure he will come to a fair decision." I'd wait til I knew more before blatantly stating that Father intended to name Dinn General, regardless of effigies. I frowned into my lemonade, unable to keep some resentment out of my voice. "Of course, if they'd wanted to make a good impression on Father, they should've come to him with their issues peacefully."

Arn shrugged. "Maybe they did, my lady."

I looked up.

Maybe they _did_.

That made everything different. That meant that whoever had done it probably already guessed that Father would be unwavering.

"I wonder," I said carefully, sipping my lemonade, which suddenly seemed too sour, "who they have in mind for the Generalship." Arn shrugged again. I cast my mind over the various high-ranking captains of Sable, trying to guess who might be a dissenter. Syriack, Ruel's former protégé, was certainly high-ranking, but he seemed too loyal. But he might be unknowingly backed by the dissenters.

I sighed and resisted the impulse to rub my forehead, entirely out of my depth. I finished the lemonade and put some potch on the table. I rose, Arn bowed. "Thanks for your time."

"My lady."

I went back to the house and learned nothing new from Father, Mother, Grand or Ruel. That evening, we had a rather half-hearted acknowledgment of my birthday. The cook made cocoa, spiced with cinnamon, and a load of baklava, and Father presented me with a beautiful velvet choker, adorned with a green sapphire faceted into the shape of a rose.

The cocoa soothed me, and I tried not to think of either executions or politics when I went to bed that night.

Two days later, however...


	27. Chapter 27

27

I was eating left-over baklava at the dining room table when I saw and felt a mouse scurry across my foot. Brazen thing. Of course we had mice, but they usually had the good breeding to keep to themselves. I watched this furry-flanked varlet scoot around the corners, squeak once or twice, and shoot outdoors, drawing interested stares from the local felines.

I finished the baklava and felt so guilty that I decided to do some vaulting. As I was heading for Kiani's paddock, a lanky man with a short blonde ponytail and a wide mouth approached me. I stopped. Chaz eyed him warily, hand on his swordhilt.

"Good day, Lady Salisha," the stranger said. I was impressed that he recognized me. "My name is Oboro." He held out a small piece of paper to me.

Mystified, I took it and read,

_Oboro Detective Agency_

_Fair Rates, Prompt Results_

I flipped the card over, looking for a picture of the agency. The back was blank. I searched for directions to the agency. Nothing. I frowned in confusion.

"It's a business card," this Oboro said.

I looked blankly up.

He gestured easily. "It explains what a business does."

"Why...do you need a card to explain it?"

Oboro sighed. "The path of the pioneer is not uncongested. Anyway, to business: I represent the agency your father has hired to investigate the recent atrocity in this city. I was wondering if you could spare a few moments...?"

"Certainly," I replied, interested. I'd never met a detective before. Oboro proceeded to question me about the events of the past few days, conducting the conversation with all the precision of a sculptor paring away extraneous material. As he had me return to several points, I noticed that we'd been joined by an extremely tall young man with an untidy heap of hair spilling over his pale face. Oboro shifted the conversation to the various captains of comparable rank to Dinn and what I thought of them. He'd probably already asked Ruel and the rest of my family all this and was comparing notes. As I was detailing several flaws in Captain Perse's character, I noticed a young woman suddenly standing at Oboro's elbow. She had shaggy long hair, heavily hooded blank eyes and a small vague smile on her face. As Oboro asked me if I'd heard anything from the townspeople, a short pillowy woman scurried up, her thick blonde ringlets bouncing. She handed Oboro a sandwich (probably from the White Ox), and then scurried off on some business.

Oboro nodded and took a bite out of his sandwich. He chewed for a moment thoughtfully, like a cow ruminating over its cud, only more intelligently. "If I may ask, Lady Salisha," (He'd maintained an unflappably polite demeanor all throughout the interrogation) "what are your thoughts on Sir Dinn? In your opinion, could he have done something to incur this sort of response?"

I frowned. "I don't know Dinn well at all. He's always been kind and respectful to me. I don't know what he's like as a commander or on the battlefield." I thought on. "I've heard his men are completely loyal to him."

Oboro took another bite and rubbed his chin for a moment. He swallowed and looked up. "Well, I think I've taken up enough of your afternoon, Lady Salisha. Thank you very much for your assistance."

I hesitated, wondering if this was something you never asked a detective. "Are you drawing any conclusions yet, Mr. Oboro?"

He smiled complacently. "Everything will be clear soon enough, Lady Salisha." He bowed his head deferentially. "Good afternoon." He and the two youths moved off towards the front gate. I watched them confer momentarily, then continued to the paddock, working over the conversation in my mind, looking for clues. I mused a long time on all the questions he'd repeated to me, guessing that those were the ones he'd felt were important, but I wasn't able to come to any resolution. I found Rocco at the paddock, and he worked me through my drills, remarking at the speed at which I threw myself into my exercises. Rocco had never had to guess whether I was upset.

Why I was upset, I wasn't sure. Maybe I just didn't like to see my home in a tizzy.

Okay, tizzy's putting it mildly.

That evening, the four of us were in Father's study. Mother and Grand were working on a complicated jigsaw puzzle, and Father was poring over a new book he'd received from his favorite book-seller in Sol Falena. I was attempting a second draft of my letter to Volga and asking Mother how you spell "bamboozle", when Oboro knocked once on the door frame and stepped inside.

Father looked up eagerly. "What news?"

Oboro clearly had news, grim news. "My lord," he said crisply, "I feel strongly that I am approaching the end of the investigation. Thus far, the evidence points towards the hate-crime being a reprisal."

There was a stunned silence. "Reprisal?" Grand repeated. "Revenge for what?"

Oboro leveled a look at my father, his expression inscrutable. "It appears that not three weeks ago, Sir Dinn had a man beaten to death."


	28. Chapter 28

28

I don't know how to explain how that made me feel. A bit angry and very lost and hurt. I didn't have any idea why.

Grand narrowed his eyes. "What's the problem with beating a man to death if he deserves it?"

"Father!" Father said sharply, and, for once, Grand obeyed. My father's face was tense, his forehead furrowed incredulously. "Do you know this for certain?"

"Not for certain," Oboro said calmly, "though I've spoken with several soldiers who claim to be eyewitnesses. Further investigations have proven these soldiers to be against Sir Dinn's promotion whole-handedly. But I've also spoken to some of his loyal cavalry men who hint at some tragedy." He paused, seeming to chose his words carefully. "Something's certainly rotten, Lord Solis."

Mother looked at Father. "We must speak to Dinn about this." She glanced at Oboro. "Unless that would affect the case?"

Oboro nodded. "It probably would. I must request that you keep silent, Lady Melissa. It may be that Dinn will hear of the investigation's results and come forward himself."

"How could he?" I demanded, voice caustic with rage. "How could he beat a man to death?" Corporal punishment is part of an army, and an inexperienced disciplinarian may accidentally beat a man with fatal results. But to deliberately-

I clenched my fists, attributing my anger to disillusionment. Having saved Dinn's life seven years ago, I supposed I felt a sort of proprietary interest in him. He had plummeted from my expectations.

"Who was the victim?" Father demanded.

"A sergeant by the name of Ander," Oboro replied.

We all frowned questioningly at each other, but nobody remembered him. Father hunted through one of his ledgers. "Yes," he said, looking at an entry dated several weeks back. "Ander's death was reported. 'Cause of death: fatal wounds received in battle'." He swallowed. "Dinn's second in command, Arn, made that report."

"I still have to continue some investigations before any of this can be made public," Oboro informed us. "I ask that you be discrete and patient." With a bow, he left us.

I tore up my letter to Volga in frustration

Then I stormed out of the house. I'd been idly contemplating turning in early, but Oboro's news had sent an electric current of anger charging through my system. The evening was seeping into night, the stars stark white chips in the sky. There was a thickly bright moon shooting down light, silvering the mountains and the dry ground. The few trees that survive our climate were shining and graceful, papered with silver-gilt leaves. There were no clouds, which bothered me a bit. In both Estrise and Sol Falena, I'd been treated to enormous herds of clouds, sometimes moving across the sky with impressive speed, sickly green clouds in the east that brought terrible windstorms. That was the sort of weather I wanted, not this pretty stroll-in-lover's-lane stuff. I kicked a stone across the courtyard, listening to it thud against a mounting block. I sighed, trying to release my sudden tension.

Maybe you can guess why I felt that way. I certainly couldn't.

I tried various ways of calming myself. First, I firmly told myself that none of it was really my business, that Father and Ruel were the ones in charge, so they were the only ones who had to worry. When that didn't work, I went into a stable and tried to soothe myself by petting warm, furry horses. Every horse instantly caught onto my mood and refused to be petted, tossing its head up irritably and turning so that it presented its backside. Even Sarqa laid his ears back and snorted. I stalked back out. I remember that I was wearing a knee-length skirt, a sleeveless shirt and a pretty silk jacket. I undid the jacket. As hot as Sable's days are, the nights are almost always cold, and I tried to use the brisk wind to distract me, bring me around to my senses. About then, I released I'd stormed outside without any shoes on.

I also realized that it was nighttime, and everyone had been so alarmed by Oboro's news that they'd forgotten to insist on my having an escort.

_Don't be an idiot, Salisha,_ I told myself. _You're the future governess. No one's going to risk his neck by raping you._

A small fear tugged at the back of my mind. Maybe the dissenters were plotting against Father.

Maybe they planned to kill him if he appointed Dinn.

I swallowed. If they did, and I didn't knuckle under, they'd kill me just as soon-

_Shut up! It's just speculation. No one would dare hurt you. You're Salisha Raulbel._

I looked around to see where I was. I'd stomped along a side street where various stores were, the upper levels being living quarters. A tavern was about a hundred yards down the street, fully lit and buzzing with conversations.

_Drunk men are willing to take risks._

_Better to storm and stomp in your own room, I think. _

I turned to head back home. Of course, it was then that someone stepped out of one of the houses. I just barely stopped short of screaming, backing frantically away with a hand to my collar bone.

Dinn pivoted and looked behind him, probably unable to realize that it was he that had alarmed me. Once he'd satisfied himself that there was no immediate danger, he turned back to me. His right arm, which he'd raised to draw his sword, fell to his side.

I was standing still but no less alarmed.

"Are you all right, my lady?"

"I was just startled," I clipped. _Calm down,__ Oboro hasn't uncovered any evidence that he murders people in the streets. If he's murdered anyone. If-_

Dinn was frowning sternly. "You should not be out alone, my lady."

I jerked my hand away from my throat, trying to make the movement look natural. "Dinn," I said coolly, "I don't believe you're in any position to give orders."

"I am," Dinn replied, even cooler, "when my lord's daughter is imperiling herself." And then, just like a command: "Allow me to escort you home."

_You're probably the most dangerous thing out here._ I lifted my chin, searching for a scathing answer. In all honesty, the very best I could come up with was

"Fine."

We fell in step.

I eyed him suspiciously. His face was almost unreadable; I thought I saw only the slightest sign of annoyance in his eyes.

Oh. My apologies, good sir. Petty trouble to escort a lady home.

"My lady," Dinn said suddenly.

I waited before responding. "Yes?" I was vaguely surprised there wasn't a faint line of frozen mist coming from my mouth.

"Forgive my frankness-"

"I can forgive _some_ things."

Dinn's eyebrows slanted with confusion. I looked away.

Dinn's voice was hard and blank. "Forgive my frankness, but if you have some prejudice against my promotion, you must notify your father."

I frowned this time.

Dinn's eyes narrowed unforgivingly. "There is no purpose in my being named General if you intend to strip me of power as soon as you take Sable."

I was angry. "Presumptuous."

Dinn was silent.

I squared my shoulders, unable to keep a note of aggressiveness out of my voice. "I don't think I've discussed my future policies with you, so you can just stop yapping at me like you have a clue."

Dinn was silent.

"And," I went on, "how dare you suggest I'm prejudiced against non-Sables?" I set my jaw. "Thanks ever so much for your good opinion of me."

Dinn raised his eyebrows just slightly. "You aren't?"

I stopped just short of shoving him in the chest. "Now you accuse me of lying?"

"No." Dinn eyed me uneasily. "It's...just I can find no other reason for your sudden hostility towards me."

Hostile? Me?

I stepped a bit away from him. After a moment of waiting for my answer, Dinn faced forward.

"If I have offended you-" he started and stopped, perhaps expecting me to jump in with a protest that he hadn't done anything of the sort.

I kept walking.

Dinn nodded. "My lady, if I have done something, it is only right that you reprimand me. This is the respect we soldiers give to your family."

I felt stupid and lost again. Hopelessly uncertain. "Never mind, Dinn."

Dinn waited a moment. "As my lady says."

For the first time I could remember, the words "my lady" were grating on my nerves. I couldn't say anything for several moments.

When we reached my house's courtyard, I had to say something. Maybe I could find some clue, some motive, some explanation. "Dinn -how -do you feel? About what's happened?"

Dinn compressed his lips. "To disobey Lord Solis' orders is a crime."

I studied his face, looking for a killer. I think I found it. Dinn is a killer. You who've heard of his battles must know that. I searched for a heartless killer.

I backed away before I could find anything, afraid. My next question came with my face only half turned to his. "Not that. I mean the prejudice."

"People will be biased," was all Dinn said.

_People will be killers,_ I thought. "Good night," I said, not even considering a thank you for him seeing me home. I stepped inside our foyer, lit by a few warm lamps. I rubbed the goosebumps on my arms.

I'd only been standing there a moment when someone entered directly behind me. I jumped. It was one of Oboro's assistants, the young man. He was shaking his head at me, his eyes totally hidden. "Don't do that again, okay," he said wearily. "Oboro sent me to watch you, and I had to chase you all over the city." He sighed. "What a pain."


	29. Chapter 29

29

At breakfast the next morning, Dinn must have realized that no one was really talking to him. For the first time, I felt a little sorry for him -then I remembered he was a torturer. I angrily chewed my porridge, wishing the truth could be out and we'd all be done with this pretense. Dragging everything out like this was gnawing away at my heart.

I mean, if he was guilty, he was guilty. Let's just get this over with, _please_. I couldn't take much more of it.

When I came back from my Chaz-escorted ride through Sable, I found Grand speaking with Dinn. That surprised me, and I dismissed Chaz in order to eavesdrop. However, as soon as I got close, all I heard was Grand saying "-those bastards will know where they stand soon enough. In a pile of dung. Well, I'll be seeing you." Dinn nodded, his expression level and detached.

Once Grand was gone, I stepped out from around the side of the house. I knew perfectly well I shouldn't be trying to investigate, but... "What did Grand want?"

Dinn was leaning against the railing of our lower porch. He straightened when he saw me and (I think) pretended not to have heard my question. "My lady?"

"Grand. Did he need something?"

Dinn hesitated. "No, my lady."

I wasn't in the mood to give up. "I didn't know you and Grand were so familiar."

Dinn's expression went distant again, and his eyes were dark. He didn't answer.

I nodded. "I can understand if you don't like him."

Dinn's expression did not change. "I would not speak against my lord's family."

"More's the pity," I interrupted, thoroughly annoyed with Dinn. "There's no need to be posh to the man who wanted to turn you into a gladiator." I struggled to suppress my anger. "I mean, he kicked you in the chest. Why should you be polite to him? You're not a slave, are you?"

Dinn was staring at the house, as though it were interesting. Well, what was he supposed to say? "My lady is as mad as all get-out and I have no idea why?"

I sighed. "I'm sorry." Apologizing to the murderer! "I'm just a bit -stressed."

Dinn eyed me sidelong, no humor in his face. "I can see that. Is there anything I can do?"

I stared blankly at my own shadow, an elongated gray silhouette on the hard-packed dirt. "No. I suppose not." I rubbed my forehead, not sure why I was still there. At the same time, I didn't really want to leave. "Grand thinks highly of you, you know."

"Does he?" Dinn asked sharply. "He-" Dinn cut his words off.

I looked up. "What were you going to say?"

"That-" He collected himself. "That I would not speak against my lord's family."

I shook my head. "Don't lie."

He seemed surprised. Well, why not? Courtiers are supposed to prefer smooth lies to unpleasant truths.

I went on. "I've thought plenty of angry things against Grand myself. I won't think badly of you."

Dinn hesitated. "I had always thought -you and your grandfather-"

"I do love Grand." I studied my shadow again. "But I'm not blind to his faults." I looked up. "Well, if you can't say it, I can guess. You were going to say that Grand's always had a high opinion of you. He was going to turn you into a gladiator after all. And you don't just hate his guts, you hate the food that passes through his guts. Am I right?"

Dinn smiled faintly, his brow tense. "I wouldn't have put it that well, my lady."

I shrugged. "It's because you don't talk enough."

That really surprised him.

...The murderer.

I looked away. "So. What did Grand want?"

"He was...expressing his partisanship for me."

I nodded. "Don't take it lightly. Grand still has a lot of influence in Sable. But you knew that." I looked down at my hands, wondering just how far in I could test the water. "Our whole family has partisanship for you," I said carefully, working to keep my voice natural. "We have high expectations. I'm sure you can meet them."

Dinn inclined his head. "I can but try, my lady."

Liar.

I nodded back. "The General has to be a wise and disciplined soldier. He must be deadly with his sword, but also not overeager to use his sword."

"My lady speaks truly." He hesitated. "I shall endeavor to fulfill your family's expectations."

I raised an eyebrow. His brow went tense again. I looked away. "Well, I'll see you-"

For the first time in my life, a soldier interrupted me. "My lady, is something wrong?"

"Wrong?" I repeated. "Why do you think that?"

"You don't seem...your...self."

"Well." I shrugged jerkily. "I'm just stressed. A lot has been happening." I clenched my fists, which were suddenly shaking. "Now -now I'll see you later. Bye." I practically ran inside.

I really don't want to tell you this.

I went to my room and did the whole crying into the pillow bit. I'm so ashamed, but I did. I was so angry at Dinn, so absolutely furious. I'd saved his life, and he'd become cruel. And he didn't even have the courage to show it.

Maybe Oboro was wrong. I stopped crying for a few minutes and thought about it.

Maybe. But probably not.

I was done in under an hour, but I had to stay in my room until all the signs of crying had faded from my face. My eyes remained tart and salty all day though, and I couldn't really talk to anyone. I told Mother I just didn't feel well.


	30. Chapter 30

30

And then, the next morning, Oboro and Arn walked in on us while we were eating breakfast. I jumped and glanced towards Dinn, who was eyeing the detective closely. No sign of nervousness.

Father cleared his throat. "Yes, Oboro, Arn? Have you some news?"

Arn was smiling, and Oboro looked more than a little smug. "Yes, Lord Solis. I have tracked the matter down to its source. Both matters, in fact." He turned to Dinn. "As far as you knew, there was only one investigation going on, but there were actually two."

Dinn raised an eyebrow but didn't speak.

"Two?" said Arn, frowning.

"Yes," Oboro said smoothly. "There was the outrage against Sir Dinn-"

"Which was perpetrated by Sir Gyf and his cohorts," Arn put in.

"In part, yes. I'm sure you know, Sir Dinn, that you don't have many kindred spirits in that quarter."

Dinn nodded.

"Gyf has confessed to his prejudice. That was the easy part. The difficulty was sorting out the nature of the reprisal."

Maybe Dinn's eyes widened a moment, maybe they didn't.

"Reprisal?" Arn asked.

Oboro looked sternly from Dinn to his second-in-command. "Yes, indeed. Things have not been running smoothly in your cavalry unit, have they?"

Dinn rose. "Please be candid, Mr. Oboro."

"Three weeks and two days ago," Oboro said, "Sergeant Ander was brought to East Tower in chains because he had conducted an unprovoked raid into one of the mountain tribes. East Tower is under your command."

Dinn was frowning. "It is."

Oboro nodded. "That much is clear as glass. After that moment, the lies start. Confusion from almost every witness." He sighed. "It makes an investigator's life all the more difficult. Luckily lies can make a pattern just as clear as the truth. Dinn, what were your orders concerning Sergeant Ander?"

"Twenty-five lashes," Dinn replied evenly.

"Standard, if on the high end of the spectrum. Still, such a punishment would be in full compliance with the reforms Lord Solis instated in 739 regarding the punishment of soldiers."

"Yes," Father said warily. Grand narrowed his eyes with contempt.

"Twenty-five lashes," Oboro repeated. "Not fatal, in skilled hands. And yet the records clearly show that Ander did not live through the night. He was reported to have died from battle wounds."

"He did," Dinn and Arn said together.

Oboro narrowed his eyes. "Yet, Sir Dinn, both your enemies and your allies admit to some scandal."

Dinn looked sharply at Arn. Arn looked blank. Dinn continued to watch his second-in-command as he spoke. "I did not see Ander's body. At the time, I was informed he had died during the night, so the twenty-five lashes were no longer necessary."

"No longer necessary," Oboro repeated, as if he especially enjoyed the sound of those words. "Meaning that those lashes were never inflicted?"

"Of course not. When Ander came to East Tower, he was severely wounded. We couldn't beat him."

"Then where did the rumors that you had him beaten to death come from?"

Dinn's eyes widened. "That I _what_?"

"I don't believe it!" Arn shouted.

Oboro smiled. "I certainly hope you don't. After all, you started it."

There was a sort of dead silence.

"_What_?" said Arn. He shot Dinn a quizzical look.

"You must be mistaken," Dinn said.

Oboro shook his head. "After a three day investigation, I am exhausted and a trifle bleary-eyed, but I am not mistaken. Arn started it."

Arn's face was set in a tense frown. "But you said Gyf-"

"Gyf was part of it," Oboro acknowledged. "You, Gyf, Perse and Taro were the ones who beat Ander to death after all."

Dinn took a step towards Arn. I couldn't tell if it was protectively or aggressively, but Arn took a quick step back. "Why would I beat Ander to death?"

"Because you genuinely thought he was making Sable look bad, and you thought Sir Dinn was being too lenient. At least, Gyf and Perse said those were the reasons, and Taro hinted as much."

Arn looked quickly at Dinn. "I would not countermand my captain's orders!"

"You didn't. You just carried out the order prematurely, knowing full well it would result in death. Then, when you were sober, you were in a position to say Ander had died from his battle wounds. Sir Dinn never knew the discrepancy."

Dinn's eyes were livid.

"Of course, this little mess-up proved useful to you," Oboro went on, narrating Arn's life story. "Like Gyf, you felt the title of General should not go to a non-Sable. You were a partisan for Sir Syriac who, incidentally, doesn't want to be General. You, however, are a bit of coward. That's my opinion, at least, of a man who so stridently insists on playing both sides. You helped orchestrate the hate-crime, but you quickly saw it wasn't changing Lord Solis' mind. Not having any other tricks up your sleeves, you pretended to be Dinn's stalwart ally. This earned you no amount of ill-feeling from your conspirators, but you were safe because incriminating you meant you would incriminate them." Oboro shrugged. "But then the web of lies caught up with us all. And here we are." He passed a sheaf of papers to Father. "Here for your perusal are the testimonies of everyone I interviewed. I think you'll find my conclusion is sound. In the meantime, I suggest you detain Arn with the rest of the conspirators."

"I can't believe you're condoning this," Arn said, backing quickly away. "I-" He bumped backwards into Ruel. Dinn advanced on the other side.

"I'll be happy to explain it to you again," Oboro said. "Tomorrow, when I visit you in prison. I believe the trial can probably be held shortly."

Weird day, to say the least.

By the afternoon, I was sitting on our wide balcony, still thinking things over. Arn was in prison. The trial would be held in two days. And Dinn was exonerated.

Was I relieved?

Of course I was relieved.

I absently shredded my skirt hem, trying to settle a tempest of thoughts.

When I saw Dinn that evening, he was very cool to me. When I saw him crossing the courtyard after supper, I ran to catch up. "I'm sorry."

"No harm has been done, my lady."

"Don't _lie_!"

He flicked me an annoyed look.

"I'm sorry I thought you had murdered him. But -Oboro seemed to think so, and-"

Dinn's voice was severely cold. "My lady, I feel it would be better not to discuss this."

I scrabbled for explanations. "I didn't -I didn't want- I was afraid that if I thought you hadn't done it then I'd find out you did and then I'd be hurt anyway!"

Dinn turned back to me, the chill evaporating. "Hurt?"

Oh dear. Best to ignore that. "I'm sorry, all right? I was wrong, and I'm glad I was wrong. Okay? Well... good night then!" I ran back to the house.

If I'd been public speaking, that would've gone so much better.


	31. Chapter 31

31

Arn was executed by beheading. In Grand's day, it might have been a gratuitous display of the criminal being hacked open alive, but Father says that since we have to have executions, they should be over quickly. Gyf, Perse and Taro were thrown out of the army and permanently exiled from Sable. I don't know where they went. The other conspirators were likewise discharged, but they were only exiled for ten years. I don't know if they'll want to come back, because Dinn took the title of General very quickly after that. Ruel moved out of our house, and the younger soldiers started pandering to Dinn.

Madelon was a pain in the

Well, never mind what she was a pain in.

Because she'd never been in on Oboro's investigation, she'd never suspected Dinn of being anything but honorable, and I felt that was an enormous difference between us. Now that Dinn was the second most important man in the entire city, Madelon scaled up her wooing to an alarming degree. It seemed that Dinn never once looked up from a plate of sausage, or a roster of new recruits, or from saddling his horse without seeing her standing attentively at his shoulder. She kept asking him how he was feeling and if he needed anything and would he please make more use of the archers? I just kept wishing he'd court marshal her or something.

Not that I had much time to watch, at first. Father kept throwing the books (er, figuratively) at me, and I was chin deep in the intricacies of politics and finance. Whenever I could, I'd simply get out of Sable, ride as far as Chaz would let me. I ranged up through the mountains, almost crossing into New Armes from time to time. Mother wondered at my restlessness. "For the past few months, Salisha, it's like you can't stay still."

I shrugged. "I don't know." I didn't know. I think it partially was the sudden press of responsibility, the knowledge that my time was coming closer and closer. I wanted to lead Sable. I wanted to be as strong as Grand and as wise as Father. I didn't feel ready.

_Don't worry. You still have plenty of time before Father resigns._

In part, it was the stress.

The other part?

Er...

Madelon.

Sun above, she was everywhere.

Well, not exactly. She was everywhere Dinn was.

Which was often where I was. Now that he was General, both Father and Grand insisted I evaluate every move he made concerning the garrison. As Father continued to stress, Dinn was commanding Sable's most valuable asset, its military. I had to trust him and, to do that, I had to know him.

I public spoke and tried to sound nice about it. "Do you need something, Madelon?"

Madelon looked vaguely up. "No, I'm just helping Sir Dinn." She was holding up a map for him to study.

"That's very kind of you," I said, "but Grand and I need to speak with him concerning the repairs of South Tower. This will take some time, and I don't want to keep you from your duties."

"Oh!" Madelon's face brightened. "I rode down to South Tower with Sir Dinn yesterday. In fact, I spoke to some of the masons."

Rides?

Grand narrowed his eyes. He never had much patience for Madelon, mainly because she insisted she was soldier. "Do as your lady tells you, girl."

Madelon's face darkened. "But of course." She bowed, gave Dinn a smile and left.

They were going on rides?

"Now then," Grand started. "Salisha, pay attention. How's the repair work on the wall coming?"

"Slowly, Sir Lennox," Dinn answered. "The rain has caused too many mudslides. Travel to the quarries is proving problematic."

And just where were they riding to?

"Hmph. What about that vein they opened in the west. Isn't that doing any good?"

"They're still testing it. There was a recent rockslide, so the men are wary."

And just what were they doing on these rides?

"Well, just keep the repairs at the top of your priority. Bandits can find a gap faster than water. Now then, Salisha, I believe you had some questions about the new cavalry wings."

"Ah..." I blinked. "Yes...how are they on rides?"

Dinn raised his eyebrows. "How is their riding?"

"Yes."

I could've been trying harder, I admit.

"They are all adequate riders, my lady."

"Good," I said, avoiding Grand's narrow-eyed stare. "Um, I've heard there's a question of whether or not you'll be using much of the archers. Have you come to a decision?"

Dinn looked a bit tired. "Yes, my lady. I plan to continue using them as sentries along the wall. As I have explained...often...they have no usefulness in close combat."

"Excellent. No need to overwork the archers." I nodded firmly. "I am very pleased with what you're doing, though I feel remiss I have not observed it first hand. The next time you ride to one of the towers, I want to come with you."

Dinn smiled. "Certainly, my lady."

Hah! Take THAT, you scullery maid!

Er...I mean...


	32. Chapter 32

32

In fact, I started accompanying Dinn on a lot of his errands. It meant that I didn't have to stay in the city and study economy, but I could still argue I was preparing myself for leadership by overseeing the military.

The governor of Sable can operate in one of two ways. He can be like Grand and head both the civilians and military, or he can be like Father and appoint a General to take care of the warmongering. I obviously belonged to the latter type, but Father and Grand approved of my interest in the garrisons. The governor of Sable has to understand how the military works to keep it effective and free from corruption. But Father did want me to spend more time with the books.

One afternoon in late, late summer, they were finally getting to work repairing the gaps in the border wall. There had been some raids recently, so Dinn had ridden down to confer with the captain stationed at South Tower. Madelon had come with him (I never did hear her reason). I hadn't been able to study that afternoon, so Chaz and I had caught up with them.

Madelon and I were watching the wall being repaired. Chaz, not wanting to risk any injury, kept us well back of the heavy winches and stones. Madelon leaned towards me. "Look, Salisha, no offense, but can you buzz off?"

I raised my eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"I'm trying to get in some time alone with Dinn, and it's kind of hard with you here."

I waved away some gnats. "Dinn has very important work to do. I can't let him be distracted."

Madelon chewed her lower lip. I could see that she was thinking.

"What?"

"Distraction..."

"What about it?" I asked with a bit of dread. Was this going to involve her throwing herself under one of the winches?

"Oh nothing," she said carelessly.

Dinn came out a few minutes later arguing with one of the captains about taxes or something. Madelon eyed him carefully.

After he'd settled the matter, Dinn came over. "I think I'm done here. We should head back."

We headed back.

Do you remember what happened the last time the four of us were heading back to Sable? My ankle sure does.

This wasn't quite as dramatic. About halfway to home, Madelon gave a low moan, went limp, and tumbled down the side of her saddle. Her ankle got locked in one of her stirrups, so she hit the ground shoulder first, her leg wrenched at a painful angle.

We three stopped in bewilderment. Dinn was off his horse in a second and freeing her ankle. He gently lowered her into a reclining position.

"Is she out cold?" Chaz asked as he and I dismounted.

Madelon moaned softly. There was no blood, and she didn't seem pale, but her eyes were firmly shut.

"It could be sunstroke," Dinn guessed.

Or not. I leaned down. "Can you hear me, Madelon?"

"Dinn..." Madelon murmured.

"No, it's not Dinn, it's Salisha," I said.

"...Dinn..."

"Sal-lee-sha."

Maybe Madelon's eyebrow twitched. "..._Dinn_..."

"Close enough." I looked at Dinn. "I don't think she should ride."

Dinn nodded. "No, my lady."

"...Dinn? Is that...you?"

"She can ride with me," I suggested.

"Wha -uh, what?" Madelon whispered. "No... I ...I feel faint..."

"Do you think that's advisable?" Dinn asked.

I nodded firmly. "Yes. If anything should happen, you and Chaz need to be free to fight. I can't fight, so having Madelon with me won't make any difference."

Madelon was strangely quiet now. I crouched down and held her hand. "Oh dear... I think she's fading fast..."

Madelon compressed her lips. "I...I ...I think I can get up if...someone...helps me..."

"Chaz," I said, "could you help her up?"

"No need, my lady," Dinn said and picked her up, Sun blast him to itty bitty cinders. Tenderly, he lifted Madelon onto the front of Kiani's saddle. Annoyed, I mounted behind Madelon, who was slowly blinking at Dinn.

"Would you like me to put an arm around you?" I asked.

She smiled. "No, I don't think that's necessary. Unless...I fall again..."

Dinn, after tying Madelon's horse's reins to his saddle, had mounted. "I'll ride beside you and catch you if you do."

Guess how many times Madelon almost fell out of the saddle on the ride home?

Six.

Amazing how she never once fell off the saddle in Chaz's direction.


	33. Chapter 33

33

"I'm looking for Dinn," said the tall curvy woman with raven black hair down to her shoulders. Wearing riding clothes, she had walked through the front gate not five minutes ago, leading a small company of four with laden packhorses.

I'd been dismounting from Kiani. Chaz had left. This stranger stared at me out of eyes as gold as Queen Arshtat's crown, her red lips in a vague smile. Her skin was richly tanned.

"Dinn?" I repeated, as if I'd never heard the name before.

"Yes," she replied. "He's a soldier here. Last I saw him he was about yea high." She held her hand just above the level of her own head. "Dark brown hair, brown eyes... He said he was going to live in Sable." She looked around. "This is Sable, isn't it? Or," she frowned consideringly, "are you a bit slow in the head?"

"He's inside," I clipped. Then, not wanting to have these strangers traipsing around in my house, I said, "I'll get him." I tied Kiani to one of the front hitching posts and stalked inside, up the stairs and down the hall to Dinn's lair. I found him bent over a list of the cavalry captains and their ridings. He had a quill in one hand and there were cross-outs and arrows everywhere.

"You have visitors."

Dinn frowned. "Visitors? Who? My lady," he added belatedly.

"Oh, a woman and some people."

Dinn looked mystified. "A woman? What sort of woman?"

"Just a woman." I almost added, S_ort of a plainish, ugly, rather hideous woman,_ but I stopped myself.

I followed Dinn back down the hall, down the stairs and out the door. When we stepped into the sunlight, I saw the stranger's eyes light up. "Dinn!" she squealed and threw herself smack into his arms.

Dinn seemed a bit flabbergasted until they'd been hugging for several moments. "Aja!"

She backed a step or two away from him, smirking. "You didn't recognize me!"

"Sure I did!"

"Dinn!" cried a voice from the caravan. An older woman with brown hair (quite lovely woman, in fact) dashed forward, and this time Dinn was ready to catch her. An older man with black hair followed her at a slower pace, smiling broadly, and a younger version of him came after, probably in his late teens.

"You never wrote," the older woman was sobbing into his shoulder.

"I was -er, busy-"

"Are you doing well here? Are you being a good soldier?"

"Dammit, that is one huge sword," the young man commented.

"He better be a good soldier," Aja was saying, squeezing Dinn's arm. "Since he never wrote!"

"I...lost track of the time?"

"For three years!"

"It's taken us just this long to see you," the older man said than.

Dinn raised an eyebrow. "Ishay's not far."

The older man grinned. "Well, it is when they appoint you elder."

"You're an elder? I should've known."

"Oh Dinn!" the older woman sobbed. "You've grown so tall!"  
"No, he hasn't," Aja said contemptuously. "He hasn't grown an inch. He's filled out though."

"Of course," the young man said. "I heard they feed the garrison Armes bandits here."

The older woman, looking over Dinn's shoulder, saw me and snapped her fingers. "Hey! You there! Get along, this is none of your business!" She snapped her fingers again, and I was scurrying around the far side of the house before I knew what was even happening.

About the last thing I heard was Dinn's aghast voice, "Mother, that was Lord Raulbel's daughter!"

".What? Ah...oh."

"Aw man," said the young man. "Is she gonna have you court martialled?"

"Er...I'd have to court martial myself."

"...Huh?" said the mother. "Wait, do you mean you're -you're the- OH DINNY-INNY-DINN-DINN!"

_That _was the last thing I heard.


	34. Chapter 34

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Like me, Father was initially nonplussed, but he quickly put on his gracious host demeanor and invited Dinn's family to have supper with us. I don't know if they were aware of what an honor this was; even if Dinn's father was a village elder, he was nowhere near the status of the nobility. Still, Mother and Father seemed too curious to resist.

Apparently, the lovely Aja was Dinn's younger cousin. His parents were Finn (no joke) and Adria, and his younger brother was named Vann. All through supper, Dinn was grilled within an inch of his life concerning the last three years, and they wanted to hear every detail about what he did as General, so the conversation was pretty boring to us Raulbels. Mother leaned over to me and wanted to know if I'd ever sent that letter to Lord Volga.

"Volga? Letter?"

"The one you were writing, Salisha."

"Oh...ah..."

Mother sighed irritably. "We'll talk about this later."

"I'll send it off," I promised. "I really will."

"So can you order beheadings?" Vann wanted to know.

"Only with the approval of my lord," Dinn answered, glancing at Father.

Adria was flicking some dust off Dinn's sleeve. "Aren't you a little young to be a general, dear?"

Dinn came close to shrugging, then remembered he was in Father's presence. "I'm twenty-seven, Mother."

Adria smiled. "You'll always be my little baby."

Mother spoke to momentarily divert our attention from the suffering General. "We have a very high opinion of Dinn. He has never failed to distinguish himself in service. But I'm more curious about the happenings in Ishay. Have-"

But they were not to be thus diverted. "Distinguishing yourself?" Aja asked, squeezing Dinn's elbow. "You bring home lots of bandit heads to hang on the front gate?"

"Er, we don't-"

"Dinn, you need to be eating more," Adria interrupted, gesturing at his relatively untouched plate. "Finish your string beans."

With a brief glance at heaven, Dinn forked some string beans into his mouth.

When we were alone in my room, Mother returned to the subject of Volga. "Salisha," she said seriously, sitting on my bed, "your father and I have never wanted to rush you into anything. And we've enjoyed seeing you have such a good time at court. But you must seriously consider your marriage. Do you want us to arrange it?" she asked, not unkindly.

"No," I said quickly. I gestured in a vague way. "I am looking, you know. And the lords are very nice, perfectly decent individuals. I just need a bit more time to find out who I'm best suited to."

Mother smiled faintly. "Don't bank on falling in love with him immediately. That takes time."

I sighed. "I'm beginning to wonder if Volga is even the right choice. He could want me to live in Lelcar. I can't lead Sable from there."

"If you do marry Volga," Mother said, eyeing me seriously, "you'll probably have to live in Lelcar some of the year. But many nobles govern from a distance. It can be done, and well."

I nodded bleakly, wishing I'd found an argument that would mean I didn't have to consider Volga any longer.

I rode through town again that evening, the streets pretty in their purplish twilight haze. I thought about Volga for nearly the whole time, which was the most attention I'd given him in ages. I didn't think about love, I thought about friendship. Could I be friends with Volga? What did we have in common? We didn't even seem to be particularly interested in each other. Our correspondence was generally as dull as cold soup.

As I was leading Kiani around to her stall, I found Dinn with his horse. Actually, Spook was just noshing on hay. Dinn was leaning against the door, rubbing his forehead. He gave me brief smile (or grimace) as I passed. I wondered what he was thinking. He seemed to like his family, though they were quite overwhelming all at once.

I handed Kiani off to a groom, and was just going to join Dinn and ask what he thought of his family being here, but Madelon was already there, talking about how charming his mother was. This time, I was the one grimacing as I passed.


	35. Chapter 35

35

Dinn's family was in the front courtyard, just inches away from departure. Adria kept hugging Dinn and telling him to _please_ write. When Adria stepped back, Aja launched in with her own hug. Really, she was quite affectionate for a first cousin.

"Here, help me load up my horse," she said, waving to Madelon. Madelon, who'd been loitering around, looked surprised but came to help. As Aja steered her towards the horses, I heard her say, "And stay away from my cousin, okay? You're not his type, and the constant sheep eyes made me ill."

But everyone has their good qualities, you know.

Nothing really happened for a few weeks. Then, suddenly, everything was happening. There was a riot at the gates of Sol Falena. Then one morning, when Dinn and I were talking on the balcony, we both saw a blinding flash of sunlight to the north. It left us momentarily blinded. No one knew what to make of it until a day or so later when messengers told us that Queen Arshtat had used the Sun Rune.

The Sun Rune. For my entire life, the Sun Rune had been a symbol, something to swear by, a point of patriotism. All its destructive capabilities had been in the abstract. Now Lordlake, a prominent village north of us along the Feitas, had been blasted dry. Its governor, Lord Rovere, was killed along with his entire family. Father mourned his loss, even after we learned that Rovere had incited a dangerous rebellion against the Queen. Within months, the bulk of Hatred Fortress stifled the flow of the Feitas.

In some ways, Sable was not affected. We've never been in on the Feitas' big wet ring, so our already meager crops weren't diminished. But for centuries we'd had a close business relationship with Lordlake; it brought us necessary food from Falena's fertile areas as well as luxury items. With Hatred Fortress in place, Sable was cut off. Father and Grand refused to send me to court that year, afraid that the queen's anger might be directed at Sable. Though Grand saw nothing wrong with the queen deploying her formidable True Rune, Father deplored it, a sentiment he shared with Lord Salum Barows. This brought Sable politically closer to Rainwall. Thankfully -and this is the only thing I thank him for- Lord Barows encouraged his merchants to bring us goods via land routes. For a while, we had to do without pretty luxuries, but we weren't devastated. Father covertly opened Sable's gates to the refugees of Lordlake, but none came. Hot, arid Sable was just too similar to what had been done to their lovely town.

"Of course, she's the queen," I said, trying to reason it out, "she has to defend herself against rebellion, but-" I shook my head. "Didn't she put through the laws that say you aren't supposed to harm civilians?"

Dinn compressed his lips. "By rebelling, the people of Lordlake were forfeiting their civilian status. However-" He sighed. "Destroying the houses of their wives and children hardly seems like justice."

I crossed my arms over my chest, sitting on the balcony railing. "These years of war have been bad for Falena. I've heard that the queen's become paranoid."

"She's imprisoned Lady Merces." He shook his head. "The woman who first suggested she take up the Rune."

"A bad decision, do you think?"

Dinn frowned. "I know little of runes. I know battle." He paused. "That was no battle the queen fought. It was extermination."

I looked down. "Extermination no number of shields could defend you against."


	36. Chapter 36

36

But Sable wasn't blasted by the Sun Rune. For the next two years, aside from vague rumors of Arshtat's paranoia, the Sun Rune had no effect on our lives. In time, I even returned to court. It was as beautiful as ever, though I always felt a tension just below the surface, in the quick smiles that never reached the courtiers' eyes. I saw Arshtat, the Sun Rune like a little bloody drip on her pale forehead. Yet she smiled and was charming and even spoke with me from time to time. I never heard anyone mention Lordlake in her presence.

I came back to Sable with no little amount of relief. My first day home, helping Madelon unpack my clothes, I almost wanted to cry, I was so grateful to be in familiar, safe, surroundings. Of course I didn't.

It had been my first time to court without Mother. The Wildes had served as my chaperones (sort of), so Mother was keen to know all that had happened. I'd written letters every few weeks, but you know how parents are. I'd brought her back several bolts of silk to make into a new dress, and she was terribly pleased. For Father, I'd found one of the few books he'd never read. For Grand, I'd spent a tiresome dinner party wrestling an admission from one of his long-standing rivals that he'd been the best damned warrior south of Scarlet Moon, which Grand pretended to be nonchalant about, but I could tell he was secretly delighted.

I slapped my hand to my forehead. "I forgot to get _you_ something!"

"That's all right, my lady."

"I can't believe it, I'm so stupid!"

"Certainly not, my lady." The corners of Dinn's mouth were twitching slightly. "It is of no importance."

"Oh, of course not, you're just practically one of the family."

"I assure you that I-"

"I don't think I bought anything that would be even remotely suitable. Er, would you like my new fan? It's a very nice one."

"Uh..."

Encouraged, I dropped it into his hand. "There you go. Now you have a present. Now you have absolutely no excuse to incite the military against me later."

With an unpracticed gesture, Dinn opened the fan and stared at it. "That's a weight off my mind."

I tapped the fan's thick lace edging. "You'll find it terribly useful. It's so hot in Sable, after all. And you can always remove one of the ribs and put a stiletto in it."

Dinn flicked the fan. "My lady thinks of everything."

I studied him. "I really think it...adds to your warrior demeanor."

Dinn closed the fan and put it through the first, second and third swordfighting positions. Then he handed it back to me.

"I _am_ sorry," I said.

He grinned. "It's of no consequence, I promise."

"Are you sure?" I raised an eyebrow. "Maybe you need more funds for the military that Father feels are unnecessary? I'm sure I could bring him around. Maybe mittens for the guards who have night duty? Or a stuffed animal in every barrack?"

"I probably should've just accepted the fan..."

I walked off, waving my hand. "I'll think of something. When's your birthday? I'll have the cook make baklava."

"My birthday was last week, my lady."

That stopped me. I gave him a cold look. "I think, at this point, we can both say this mess is your fault."

Dinn sighed. "I'll accept the fan, my lady."

I passed it back. He bowed politely and tucked it into his belt.

Later on the season, Rocco began training his son Peter in riding. I'd come down in the morning to see them in a practice ring, Peter's pony tied to a long lunge line, trotting endlessly in circles around Rocco. It reminded me of my own childhood; Grand had helped teach me to ride. I remember once when I was five Mother and I came with him to Stormfist. I rode right between the front gates on my dumpy little pony with a lead shank tied to the saddle of Grand's enormous red stallion. On my own horse with my proud warrior grandfather next to me, even Marscal Godwin hadn't been able to frighten me.

One morning, as I was watching Peter as he begged to be allowed to ride without reins ("**No**", said Rocco), I heard Madelon. She sounded like she was walking, the noise of her chatter coming closer to me. My jaw tightened. Didn't she ever leave Dinn alone? He had more important things to do than pass the time with a house maid, no matter how curvy she was. I turned, vaguely formulating a plan to send Madelon on an errand.

"...and I always say that a warrior's most valuable assets are his arms. And his most attractive. You have fine arms, Sir Rhone, has anyone ever told you that? Such firm muscles."

Sir Rhone stared at her rather glassily. He was a young soldier, not even twenty, and had only just stopped the process of growing. Now that he was a full six foot five, he was in the process of filling out. Madelon had taken his left arm and was gingerly stroking his bicep.

Another maid from the house jogged up. "My lady, Lord Solis requests your presence in his study."

Ah. More lessons. After two hours of tedium, I ate lunch, collected Chaz and took a ride in the mountains to ease my subsequent headache. When we returned, I found Madelon in the courtyard again. She had managed to waylay Dinn and Rhone at the same time. Unnoticed, I brought Kiani closer under the pretense of walking her cool.

"So really Dinn, you shouldn't let a good thing like this slip through your hands. I've lived in Sable all my life. I know a great warrior when I see one." She clapped Rhone on the shoulder. "Rhone is a swordsman among thousands. With the proper training, he will be leading your men into the heart of danger and leading them away into glory."

Rhone gulped. Dinn waited to see if she was done. "I appreciate your interest in-"

"Rhone," Madelon said, stepping closer so that her hip just brushed his thigh for a moment, "will you come riding with me this afternoon? I'm afraid to go into the mountains by myself."

"Er...I have...er, I have...sword-training?" He ended it on a questioning note, the tip of his nose going red.

Madelon looked at Dinn and pushed out her lower lip slightly. "Won't you give him the day off, Sir Dinn?"

Dinn blinked. "I'm afraid not."

"Oh?" She raised an eyebrow. "Don't you want him to accompany me?"

Dinn smiled. "Rhone won't lead my men in or out of anything if he doesn't attend his sword classes."

"Oh." Madelon tilted her head to one side. "Then, won't _you _go riding with me, Dinn?"

"No need," I said carelessly, leading Kiani over. "Chaz and I were just heading out again. We'll go with you."

I don't have quite the vocabulary to translate the look Madelon gave me. You see, my mother was very careful about that sort of thing. Chaz's look was also pretty hot stuff, but at least his was only flabbergasted.

"I'm sure," Madelon said carefully, "that your ladyship has some studying to do. You seem to have been...neglecting it lately."

"Don't forget your place," Chaz said automatically. Dear Chaz.

"Come now," I public spoke, "accompanying you is the least I can do for my faithful maid."

Cheery trip into the mountains.

If Chaz hadn't been there, she might've shoved me off a cliff.

"Madelon, I don't see what's wrong," I snapped for the fifth time. "If you want Dinn, just come out and tell him! Stop acting like a barnacle around Rhone!" Never mind that she'd never been to Estrise and had no idea what a barnacle is.

Madelon bit her lower lip.

"Is this some sort of power play?" I went on. "Are you trying to make Dinn jealous?" I stopped then, because I was pretty sure she was about to cry. I suddenly felt awful.

Madelon struggled to collect herself. "Maybe I'm not trying to make Dinn jealous. Maybe Rhone is the best I can do."

"Best you can do?" I repeated. "Madelon, you're gorgeous. Rhone could hardly believe his good luck just to be breathing the same air as you."

Madelon narrowed her eyes. "And Dinn? Did he care? Has he ever cared?"

I sighed and rubbed my forehead. Was there any nice way to tell her that she couldn't have everything she wanted?

"I thought _you_ might get it." Madelon looked away. "You can marry a lord any time you want, but I don't see you getting married. No. You want something else."

I clenched my hands on the reins. "It isn't that simple! I -I have to think of Sable. Whoever I marry will-"

"Oh shut up!" Madelon snapped.

I let it pass.


	37. Chapter 37

37

One morning, I walked into the kitchen to see if any of the grapes we'd gotten from Lelcar were left, and I found Madelon and Rhone locked in an impressively passionate embrace. The three of us stared at each other like stunned bunnies, then we all sort of yipped and dashed out various exits.

When I'd collected myself, I felt pretty disgusted with Madelon. Was she still just using Rhone? Well, this time it really wasn't my business, and what friendship I'd once shared with Madelon seemed to have deteriorated completely, so I tried to put her out of my thoughts. I harnessed Kiani for vaulting, asked Rocco to hold her lunge line, and put us through our paces. My mind was not on vaulting though, so I fell every time I attempted a handstand (something I've been able to do since age twelve). I tumbled down ingloriously. The third time, Kiani's hoof inadvertently clipped my face as she passed. The edge of a horseshoe can be pretty sharp, and I brought my hand up to feel a shallow cut along my jaw.

Rocco frowned with concern. "My lady, perhaps now isn't a good time."

I glared at him. How _dare_ he suggest that my mood was anything than perfect? I glanced over at Kiani, who'd stopped and was watching me, probably hoping that we were done for the day. Sarqa, at the fence, was leaning his head towards me. He snorted, probably telling Kiani, "Psssh, in my day, I could toss her ten feet, no problem. What's the matter with you young 'uns?"

I sighed. I knew very well that I felt troubled, and, for once, I knew why. Though Madelon and I hadn't been anything like close for ages, she'd been my closest female friend in Sable. Donna, though probably my best friend, was far away in Estrise, and even when I visited her, she constantly had to be checking on her two rambunctious sons. My other female friends all came from court, nice girls, but our friendships didn't go very deep. I felt lonely, and I wanted a precise, fluid, gorgeous vaulting drill to make me feel better about it.

Rocco had seen that I was bleeding, and, like a chivalrous soldier, had knelt next to me and offered his handkerchief. I thanked him and gingerly dabbed at the blood.

"Another run."

We had another run. I mounted easily enough, did a collected spin on her back, then shifted to the handstand, taking it by steps.

I overbalanced. Bang to the ground. I sat up quickly, not giving myself time to start crying. "I'm done for today, I guess."

Rocco was silent. He was probably surprised that I was giving up.

"Well," I said. "Another run then."

Four more runs. Third one was perfect, even if I fell on the fourth one again. I felt marginally better.

Mother was alarmed when I came in. "Salisha, what happened?"

It took me a moment to realize that I was scruffy with dirt and that my jaw probably sported a lividly raised welt. "Just took a few falls in the ring."

"Nothing broken, I hope?"

"No."

"Well, you need a bath. Come with me, I was just about to take one."

Once ensconced in our bath house (You think a hot place like Sable wouldn't want a bath house? Try living in a region where the principle crop is dust.), I sighed and watched the warm water turn slowly brown. Mother had scented it with rosemary and mint.

"Now Salisha," she said in that businesslike voice which can mean either good or bad news, "there's...something I think you should know."

I raised my eyebrows. "You already gave me that talk."

She waved a soapy hand. "Not that. Though-" She began to work the soap through her long brown hair. "It's a bit related."

I stifled a groan. "I'm only twenty-two. I'm not an old maid quite yet. And you don't want me to marry recklessly, do you?"

Mother rolled her eyes. "Put something on that welt, Salisha. It almost looks like you had some horrible shaving accident."

I snorted. "Shaving with a katana, maybe." I reached for some of the soap.

"Salisha," Mother said, "I've had another declaration of intent."

A declaration of intent is when a man asks permission to court a lady. Of course, by this Mother meant that the declaration had been for me, not her. I nodded. I'd had several over the years, but none of them had gone beyond a casual friendship. "Who from?"

"Dinn."

The soap squirted from between my hands and plopped into the water, splashing me in the left eye. I stared at Mother, wondering if she were setting me up for a joke. "Really?"

Mother nodded, eyeing me carefully, probably already deciding how she'd detail my reaction later to Father.

"Oh," I said, at a loss.

Mother raised her eyebrows. "And what do you think?"

"What do _you_ think?" I countered. "He has to have Father's permission for this to be aboveboard."

"He already does."

"Oh," I said, feeling very self-conscious. A courtship isn't the same thing as an engagement, not nearly. But for Father to have given his consent, it clearly meant he felt Dinn was a suitable candidate. "He's not noble-born."

Mother shrugged. "Do you really care? His position as General puts him quite comfortably on par with you." She began to scrub her left arm. "Of course, Grand is thrilled. He's always wanted you to marry a fighting man. And Dinn's very handsome, so that bodes well for my pretty grandbabies."

"Well, you two can stop being thrilled," I shot back. "We aren't married." I concentrated on scrubbing my feet. "I'm not sure I'll even accept Dinn's attentions."

"Yes, your loftiness."

I frowned. "I don't know what I did to inspire this sort of...thing."

"You like Dinn."

"I certainly like Dinn. I like a lot of people I don't necessarily want to marry."

"You like him better than Lord Volga."

I looked up, startled.

Mother smiled. "As you say, Salisha, you still have plenty of time to decide. It's just something to remember."

I went back to scrubbing my feet. So Dinn was courting me. Didn't that just ruin a perfectly comfortable friendship?

Maybe not, I amended. Maybe this was just some vague notion of his. Maybe he wasn't very serious.

...I think I can hear you laughing.


	38. Chapter 38

38

When I came out of my bath, I was still brooding over Dinn. On one hand, I wanted to march right up under his nose and ask what did me mean by courting me all of a sudden. On the other hand, I wanted to avoid him for a little while, maybe a year or two, and throw a bucket of cold water on him any time he came near. It was most confusing.

I almost got my chance too. As I walked out onto the balcony, I saw Dinn in the courtyard below. He'd tied Spook to one of the hitching posts and was busy saddling her. And there was a small potted cactus on the balcony rail. A potted cactus isn't quite the same thing as cold water, but it still could've gotten my message across. I studied Dinn moodily.

Very handsome, but I've told you that before. Lots of men are handsome. Good with a sword. Okay. Kind and courteous. Of course, I was his future liege, so only an idiot would cuss me out, whether I deserved it or not. Hugely admired by his men. Well, fine and dandy, but they weren't admiring him as husband material. Disciplined, rather intense at times. I wasn't sure I'd like to be in an argument with him, and arguments would certainly follow in any relationship. Intelligent. Quite reserved. Even cold and expressionless at times. What would it be like, married to that marble slab? Not quite a marble slab, I amended. He did have a sense of humor. That is, he certainly found me amusing.

I drummed my fingers against the railing, uneasy. Dinn is a very smart man; he'd been able to work through Sable's ranks through persistence and judicious planning. Maybe this declaration of intent was just another such move. He'd benefit from our marriage, more than I would. After all, his child would most likely command the Southern Shield, be integral in the defense of Falena.

I didn't dwell too long on the idea of having a child with him. Like having a husband, children had been one of my pleasant, abstract dreams. Suddenly, these possibilities were just coming too close to be comfortable.

I returned to the question at hand. Had I encouraged this? Absolutely not. Never. The bit with the fan? It'd been a joke, of course. A joke between comfortable friends.

Did he love me?

I didn't dwell too long on that question either. I hardly could imagine that anything I could do would awaken that kind of feeling. Maybe it's melodramatic, but that's what I felt. On a practical note, I figured, yes, well, people fall in love with other people all the time. Maybe someone could fall in love with me.

Or maybe someone wanted a noble status.

Well, if he were in love with me, it was his problem. I went down the steps.

When I crossed into the courtyard, Dinn stopped adjusting Spook's stirrups. He watched me, his eyebrows raised just slightly.

I waved my hand breezily. "If you want to court me, of course you can." He smiled, eyes lighting. I was suddenly afraid he was going to go down on one knee and begin reciting poetry, so I kept talking. "But you absolutely may not serenade me under my window by moonlight. Or daylight. And you can't-" I searched for something else to say, "call me muffin or anything like that. And if you ever, ever give me sheep eyes, I'll -have you demoted to stable boy."

"I wouldn't dare, my lady," he said, a bit too smoothly.

"And-" I'd been about to say, _And if this is all just a plan to advance your status, tell me now so we can de done with the pretense._ But I didn't. I didn't really want to know.

Dinn raised an eyebrow. "How _does_ my lady wish to be courted?"

I tapped my fingertips together. "Hm. A searching question." I made a show of looking thoughtfully around the courtyard while I stalled. Sun above, how _did_ I want to be courted? No one had ever asked. "Well," I said after a moment's thought, "I would like some sherbet."

"...Sherbet?"

"Yes," I said, inspired. "Of course, courting me isn't nearly enough. Anyone could court me. You have to prove yourself as both clever and courageous. I would like some sherbet."

Dinn considered this. "And what is sherbet?"

"It's a court delicacy, consisting of clean crushed ice flavored with cream, some fruit and sugar."

"Ah." He thought this over. "You...really want me to ride all the way to Sol Falena?"

I brought a hand to my heart. "Of course not, Dinn. Certainly not. I'm not unreasonable. After all, we can just get a mage to make some ice."

"...So you want me to kidnap a mage?"

"No," I said firmly. "No, as diverting as that would be, it would also be too easy. You can't have it easy, Dinn."

"I suppose not."

I pointed to the southern mountains. "Do you see those?"

Dinn followed my line of sight and was silent. He probably already knew where this was going.

"I know, from firsthand experience, that there is snow at the top of those taller mountains. That is where my sherbet will come from."

Dinn eyed the mountains for a long space. "And the courtship's off if I don't bring you this snow?"

"Irrevocably." I crossed my arms and lifted my chin. "Well? Are you brave enough?"

Maybe Dinn sighed resignedly, maybe he didn't. "I'm free tomorrow afternoon. I shall endeavor to...bring you some snow."

"Excellent. I'll tell the cook." I eyed him, wondering if he was considering calling all this off. Of course, he couldn't really. It's up to the woman to dismiss her suitor, never the other way around.

The snow hunting experience would be good for him, I decided. It would let both of us know if he was really up to the challenges of courtship.

Thusly, Dinn the stalwart warrior set off the next afternoon to scale the towering mountain heights to bring his lady some snow. Of course, he didn't go alone. You just don't go into our mountains alone. You can get lost easily, and you can get hurt. And there's always the concern that the soldiers haven't rounded up all the bandits. Plus, he needed a water mage to keep the snow cold.

Mother was enormously pleased. "I _knew_ you'd respond better to this one, Salisha."

"Respond better? I never set anyone else out on a quest."

"Maybe that's where you went wrong."

"Oh, be quiet."

"If Dinn still wants to court you after half a day in the mountains collecting snow, we'll know he's in earnest."

I shook my head. "I don't know. It wouldn't surprise me if he goes to all that trouble just to smash a large snowball into my face when he returns. It's certainly what I'd do."

Madelon was less than thrilled by the news that Dinn was courting me. In fact, she quit her job as a maid that very day and went to work with her mother at the hospital. She never said anything to me. I really didn't know how to feel about that, especially since this courtship was Dinn's idea, not mine. Maybe I felt some satisfaction, but I pretended I didn't. Maybe I even felt guilty.

Dinn brought back some snow around nightfall. Mother asked if his fulfilling the quest meant that we were engaged. I said no, it just meant that we were having sherbet after dinner. Which we did. It was delicious.

Dinn, though rather tired, did not hit me with anything, so the courtship was still on.


	39. Chapter 39

39

Slow day in Sable. I'd gone down to the rune sage's to have my lightning rune temporarily re-attached. Chaz and I had ridden out of the town, and I'd practiced blasting cacti. The cacti were black and charred, but so was most of the surrounding terrain It's just not easy directing elemental weapons at targets. At least, I don't find it easy. I sighed, rubbing my right hand, which often tingled uncomfortably when I cast magic. "This just isn't my thing, is it?"

Chaz stayed neutral. "It's important to have some familiarity with magic."

I nodded. Safe and never sorry is Sable's policy. Even Father can whack up a decent fire spell or two, if he has to, which he generally doesn't.

I stretched. "Why didn't I come up with an affinity for water magic? You know, something a little less volatile?"

Chaz had no answer.

We rode back. Still bored, I decided to exercise Sarqa in a lunge ring. I led him in, released his halter and put him through his paces, directing him with just my voice, making circle after circle around me. As I was calling Sarqa to switch directions, I saw Grand leaning against the fence, watching me. I smiled, pleased. Grand has always been proud of my horsemanship, though to this day he's not too comfortable with my vaulting.

"Well, Salisha," he'd said when I'd finished with Sarqa, "I'm here to speak with you on behalf of your parents, who like you too much to talk frankly."

"You don't like me at all?"

"Not a bit. Now then, young woman, you are almost twenty-three-"

"Well, I have two months to go-"

"Almost twenty-three. You're no longer a child by any stretch of the imagination. I want to see you grown up."

I looked at him in a "if you really have something to say, say it" sort of way.

"You need to look towards the future."

"Oh no." I ran my hands through my hair. "Not marriage again."

Grand rolled his eyes. "Not that. At least," he amended, "I'll have some words with you about that later. No, I'm talking about Sable."

"Sable?" I repeated, totally blank. "Wha -I'm Father's heir."

"Exactly. You need to prepare yourself to take command."

I sighed impatiently. "I already do, Grand. I spend hour on top of hour trudging through Father's books-"

"Well, you need to trudge more."

"_What_?"

"Your studies are reaping a poor harvest, Salisha. You're familiar with terms and standards, but you can't apply them to real politics without Solis' or my help. I don't think you can function independently."

"What? I-"

"You spend most of your time accompanying Dinn on his rounds. Your interest in the-" he gave me a droll look, "_military_ is fine, but it's not your primary concern."

"I go with Father on _his_ rounds too!"

"Yes, and I can't see that it's been doing much good."

I gritted my teeth angrily. "Why are you skewering me like this? I have plenty more years before Father has to give up his title. I don't have to know everything now."

Grand narrowed his eyes. "But you've learned how to predict the future. I see. The people of Sable won't need your sure hand until you're good and ready. That's taking the initiative. That's the granddaughter I wanted to raise."

I felt like he'd punched me in the chest and almost that I'd like to punch him back. "What? You think I can't lead Sable?"

"Certainly not right now. But if you apply yourself, I'm positive you can."

I pressed my lips together, unsure how to take this insult-and-compliment.

Grand smiled. "You're like me, after all. And the only reason I could rule Sable is because I studied my ass off."

"You could've just said _that_."

"Now, since you brought up the subject of marriage-"

I looked up at the sky.

"-get married to Dinn as soon as possible and have babies. We need to ensure the Raulbel bloodline, and it won't do to wait til you're any older."

"Study and have babies..."

"Both are your responsibility."

I sighed. I was quite happy with my position right now, but of course I knew it couldn't last forever.

"Why are you dawdling? Dinn's been courting you for over half a year. That's long enough."

I didn't answer. Grand loves me (after a unique fashion), but I know better than to talk to him about anything emotional. If I married Dinn, he'd see it as a wise political move. And, if he thought about it further, he'd notice than Dinn and I did like each other's company, so he'd be happy the wise political move was enjoyable to both parties. Grand's not heartless. He'd loved my grandmother passionately, but only after they'd married. My grandmother had died long before I was born, so I never knew how much she loved Grand.

Did I love Dinn? I liked him enormously. But I wasn't willing to call what I felt a name as all-consuming as love.

Mother had finally convinced Father to take a breather from his work, so they had gone to Yeshuna Village for several weeks to relax. I didn't want to spend a lunch with Grand and more of his trenchant observations, so I begged an early lunch off the kitchen. When I was done, I took a tray up to Dinn's room and knocked on his door with my foot.

"Come in."

I came in (of course leaving the door wide open; propriety, propriety). "Don't get up," I said, before he could even twitch in an upwards direction. He was seated at his desk in front of several thick layers of papers. A complicated chart stood on an easel next to him (no, I don't remember what was on it). The nodachi was slung slantwise over the back of his chair.

"I brought you lunch. It's lentil soup. A bit salty, but the cook doesn't care."

"Thank you, my lady."

I passed him the tray which he placed over the papers. He picked up the spoon and studied the soup a moment before committing himself to ingesting it.

I sat on his window ledge and glanced briefly around the room. Books, bed, several weapons, many maps and charts and scrolls. No knicknacks.

"Do you need something, my lady?"

"No, thank you." I turned my attention back to him. "I think Grand is on the hunt for me. I don't feel like talking to him right now. Do you mind if I stay here?"

"As you wish, my lady."

I stared at him. "You may call me Salisha."

Some emotion I couldn't catch crossed his face. Maybe it was just surprise, but I'm still not sure to this day. There had to have been some surprise. I'd never invited any soldier, not Rocco, not Chaz, not Ruel, to call me Salisha naked of its "Lady".

One thing was certain: Dinn was at a loss for words. Suddenly embarrassed, I said, "Have you heard from your family recently?"

"Ah -yes." He cleared his throat. "My cousin Aja has just gotten married."

Weddings, weddings. Why was everyone having weddings? "Congratulations. To her, naturally," I added lamely. I looked for another subject to occupy my awkward silence. "Did you hear that Madelon's expecting? Even Rhone's mother approves of her now."

Dinn looked mildly interested. "Good for her. Having a child might steady her. She always struck me as-" He considered a moment. "Flighty."

Still preoccupied with Grand's words, I leaned back against the window, the warped, ripply glass cool against my bare arms. "Dinn, do you really want to marry me?"

I think he nearly choked on the lentil soup. He cleared his throat, hard, and stared at me. "Of course."

I bit the inside of my cheek, a trick I've learned when public speaking, a reminder that I had to choose my words with meticulous care. But this wasn't public speaking, or not exactly. I had to be careful, but I also wanted to be honest. "What will happen if I reject your proposal?"

His face was blanked out. Bracing? "Are you rejecting me?"

"No," I said, though I was careful not to say it too quickly. "I'm only asking. Whether or not I accept you, we have to maintain good relations for the sake of Sable. Will you feel bitter if I refuse you and marry someone else?"

His jaw tightened. He didn't like the idea of me marrying someone else? Was that good or bad? Too possessive? Should I feel annoyed? His voice was even. "My lady, even if we don't marry, you will still be my liege. I will serve Sable until I die. If you-" He cut his words off, his high cheekbones going just a bit red. I almost gasped. I never knew he could blush.

I felt rattled. I looked away from him, resting my cheek against the cool glass a moment. "I'm relieved, Dinn. Even if I -don't accept you, I want to keep your friendship." I glanced at him peripherally; he was watching me steadily. "For my sake as much as Sable's."

He rose from his seat. "My lady-"

"Salisha."

He didn't continue, looking uncertain. Well, why shouldn't he be? I was inviting him to address me familiarly while asking how he'd take a fairly ultimate rejection. I still watched him sidelong, reluctant to look him full in the face.

"Lady Salisha?" said a new voice.

My heart, which had been hovering around my throat, dropped back into my chest with a thud. I turned to the doorway where a maid stood respectfully. At the same time, I was very glad to see her. "Yes?"

She mopped her sweaty forehead. "I've been looking for you everywhere, Lady. A messenger from Sol Falena has just arrived."

"Sol Falena?" I repeated, hoping I hadn't heard her correctly. Messages from Sol Falena meant something crucial was about to happen, and Mother and Father were away soaking in Yeshuna's hot springs. I mentally reviewed all the recent news I'd heard from the capital. There were just the usual rumors, Godwin and Barows sniping at each other in the senate, the queen's growing eccentricity. I stood and nodded at Dinn to come with me. Whatever this news was, I didn't want to face it alone.

The messenger was a very dusty young woman. She greeted me formally, then held out a long, cream-colored scroll, heavy with a fringe of ribbons and seals. I took it, my palms a bit sweaty against the thick rice paper. Dinn and I went into Father's study. It was addressed to Father, but he'd told me to oversee his correspondence and pass any important news to him. As I broke the ornate silver wax seal, I wondered how long it would take a fast rider to get to Yeshuna.

The paper rasped softly as I unrolled the letter.

I read it three times before I was absolutely convinced of its message. I looked up at Dinn and let out a breath of relief. "It's fine. Princess Lymsleia's Sacred Games are to be held three months from now. Nothing to worry about."


	40. Chapter 40

40

The roaring of a very large animal woke me.

My eyes snapped open before I was properly awake, and I had to spend several moments blinking around the strange room and trying to orient myself. Stone walls closed around my little bed, their harshness only softened by a few dark tapestries and one wall scroll with a heron on it. I turned my eyes to the clock, saw it was still fairly early in the morning.

That animal roared again.

Now I was properly awake enough to be intrigued. I got out of bed, my skin erupting in little goosebumps (maybe it was the stones radiating coldness?), and tapped over to the window. I looked out, making sure only my face and none of my nightgown could be seen.

Even this early in the morning, the streets of Stormfist were jumbled with activity, barrels of beer sloshily rolled down the street, animals getting tangled up in the streamers of paper lanterns. My room in the castle was pretty far back from the city, so there was no way I could identify that impressive roar-er. Opening one of my windowpanes, I caught the smell of people and frying food. Directly below me was a garden where Godwin soldiers, natty in their gray uniforms, patrolled the walkways, defending us from the vicious tulips.

A maid (I think her name was Lissa), assisted me in my dressing and ordered a breakfast for me. As I was sitting down to a peach-filled pastry and some cream, Chaz knocked descretely at the door and stepped in.

"Hallo, Chaz."

"Good morning, my lady."

"Sleep well?"

"Yes, my lady."

"Excited about the Games?"

His eyes lightened. "Marginally, my lady."

"Oh, marginally." I took a bite of pastry and was careful not to dribble filling or get icing on my nose. "It's only going to determine who the new royal commander will be." I sipped some coffee and winced. "I bet you can't wait for tomorrow."

Chaz attempted to look disinterested.

"Do you know how the fights are going to be set up?"

"There will be two rounds tomorrow, one around two in the afternoon, the other in the evening. As the fights progress, it will be cut down to only one session, probably in the evening."

I took another bite of pastry, wondering how nervous all those gladiators, newcomers and nobles must be right now. "Are there a lot of them?"

"Yes indeed, my lady. Proceeding through the rounds will take some considerable time."

I stirred my coffee. Right then, I was very glad I wasn't a princess who had to sit through hour after hour of men pretending to kill each other for her hand. At the age of ten, no less.

I finished the pastry and stood. "I want to go sight-seeing, Chaz."

If Chaz suppressed a sigh, he didn't show it.

I nabbed Mother to come with us. Since all of us were abroad, we'd all taken bodyguards, even though Mother never bothers with any at home. Sir Rhone nodded politely to Chaz, and the two of them walked behind us, projecting I-am-a-highly-trained-killing-contraption-do-not-even-sneeze-on-my-lord's-ladies demeanors. It was hard to hear anything on the street, there was such a jabber of voices, creaking wagon wheels, barking dogs and sizzling food. A magician on the street broke open a coconut and three pigeons flew out, while a few blocks down there was a young man walking on his elbows. He had a basket balanced between his ankles, and people were tossing coins into it. As I was eyeing this young man, I heard the roar a third time, only now there was a strained elastic sound to it, something threatening. Before I could even step forward to see where it came from, Chaz was already shouldering in front of me.

"I can't see -Chaz, what's going on?" When he didn't answer, I put my hands on his shoulder and lifted myself up.

I saw a flash of yellow, then a long green whip, slicing through the air. It landed with a snap-crack at the feet of a tall young soldier. "Stay back!" a girl's voice shouted. "Leave us alone, we didn't do anything wrong!"

The scene resolved itself into a young girl dressed a bit like a dancer and a large spotty lion thing, very fierce looking, which was prowling in a semi-circle around the girl, lashing its tail. I wondered (inanely) what had made it wander from the forests into a busy city before I realized it had a black collar and two braces on its forelegs. The girl was tapping the butt of her whip against the ground. The soldier was mopping his forehead. "Listen," he said, "you can't just bring a wild animal into Stormfist-"

"Ernst is _not _a wild animal!" the girl protested. "I bet he has better table manners than _you_!"

"Let's move along, my lady," Chaz said.

"No way, I want to see what happens."

Mother shook her head. "We can't just gawk on the streets. Come along."

Phooey. That's what privilege gets you. I allowed myself to be steered along, though I did look over my shoulder the whole way.

Further along there was a troupe of jongeleurs playing reels there was no room to dance to, and a litter of Nay-Kobold children were being gawked at, even though they apparently were just trying to find a decent inn. The closer we got to the arena, the more congested the street became, especially with food vendors. Roasting meat patties, sushi, ice creams and fresh fruit every where. Mother raised her eyebrow at me. "Apparently, some people want to be eating while they watch young men pummel each other."

We wandered a bit more, then fought our way back to the castle. If we'd wanted, we could've sallied out in litters and had criers clear the streets for us, but that would've been so embarrassing.

Marscal Godwin hosted a grand luncheon that afternoon; all the stars of Falena's court and senate (and some of the less than stellar) had put in appearances, and we were circulating politely, careful not to accidentally start a war. Only the royal family was absent, presumably dining in privacy. Gizel Godwin and Euram Barows were scrupulously ignoring each other. Donna told me that each of them felt that he was the most likely candidate to win Lymsleia's hand. "Of course," she added, "neither of them will be actually fighting. They'll be using gladiators." She rolled her eyes. "I'd like to see the two of them in the combat ring, flicking their silk handkerchiefs at each other and slapping each other with gloves." She cast a fond glance at her warrior-husband Boz, who was telling a very loud joke to the sad-faced Bahram Luger.

I glanced over the large dining hall. The meal was pretty much over, and we were all trailing around, sipping from wine glasses. With everyone up, it was easier to see who was here and who wasn't. Father, in his circulating, had encountered Dilber Novum, and the two of them, having no idea what to say to each other, were talking about the weather. Grand was talking with Volga of Lelcar (when our eyes met, we both quickly looked away). The Lords Orok and Wassil were deep in an argument, and Craig Laden was studying his wine glass with a thoughtful frown. He tapped it with one fingernail and the stem broke off, landing on the table. Craig Laden looked around hurridly, then stuck both halves of the glass under the table's centerpiece.

"Who's that?" I asked, pointing to a slight, younger girl with creamy blonde hair. She was wearing a trailing burgundy dress and walking next to Euram Barows. Every so often, she guided him by the elbow and saved him from walking into a decorative plant.

"Luserina Barows," Donna said after one look.

"I've never seen her before."

"I hear she spends most of her time running Rainwall."

"Isn't that Pop Barows' job?"

"No, Pop Barows' job is to oink his opinions in the senate -Oh, Lord Barows, good to see you. Oh I'm fine, thank you. You're looking very well. And young Euram- " Salum oinked something about how he had the games "all tied up". Donna said something polite, and he moved on.

I leaned towards her. "Isn't the phrase, having something 'all _sewn_ up'?"

Donna glanced back towards Barows' backside. "Maybe the seams split." She glanced over through crowd again. "Ooo. Who's that? That one talking with Boz."

I followed her line of sight. "Oh, that's Dinn."

"Ooo," said Donna again, giving me a look. "That's right, I remember him. Vaguely. And here I thought you said you had a good reason for not accepting his attentions. What was it again?"

I tapped her forearm with my fan. "Now is _not_ the time."

"Well, why don't we join them?"

"Lecherous old hag."

We joined them. Actually, I don't remember at all what we talked about (I'm sure it was very witty. Of course.) I only remember being somewhat surprised that Dinn and Lord Boz were getting along so well. Probably we talked about the coming games, who we thought would win, who we wanted to win. Anybody but a Barows or Godwin.


	41. Chapter 41

41

As it turned out, Euram Barows was never even in the running. When I woke up the next morning, it was to learn that Euram's gladiator had been discovered to be an Armes spy and incarcerated. Marscal Godwin stalked around the castle with a broad smile across his face, though when Grand referred to the scandal, he pretended to be disgusted.

The first rounds were that afternoon. We had a box with the Wildes with a pretty good view of the arena and the royals. Mother had me seated next to Dinn, who was blank-faced and quiet (I mean, more so than usual). It took me an embarassingly long time to realize why: he'd almost been a gladiator, and here he was, about to watch gladiators fight.

Servitors sauntered around us with nibblies and drinks. I wasn't in the mood for food, but everyone else took something, so I took some flat bread with a very salty olive paste and some wine.

I looked to my right. Dinn was leaning back in his chair, arms on armrests, staring at the arena as if it were a blank wall.

I looked to my left. Grand was drumming the fingers of his one hand against his armrest, staring at the arena as if it were a tiresome nursery-age pageant.

I sighed and took another bite of flatbread. I'd never seen gladiators fight before, but I'd often seen the soldiers sparring. Since none of these bouts were to end in death, this probably wouldn't be much different.

The rounds opened with the Prince, Lymsleia's older brother, dueling a young gladiator. He used a three-piece staff, a weapon I know absolutely nothing about, but he looked pretty skilled to me. Even Grand smiled with satisfaction from time to time. The Prince won his bout very quickly, to the polite cheering of the audience.

Then the rounds started. I was wrong about it being like the soldiers sparring. The fights weren't any more or less ferocious, but I'd never seen such a variety of warriors, weapons or tactics. Grand named some of them as they appeared -voulge, flamberge, morning star, raven's beak- listing each fault and virtue until I was glassy eyed. My interest in the fights was pretty sporadic; much of the time I spent daydreaming and wishing all the cheers didn't hurt my ears so much. I usually regained interest when a newcomer fought, that is, a man willing to fight his own battles. I guess I share Grand's disdain for people who hide behind hired brawn (Never mind that I have a bodyguard. I am not pretending to fight.) Speaking of Chaz, every time I glanced behind my chair at him, his attention was fixed raptly on the fights. It's just as well no one tried to assassinate me; I don't think he would've noticed until my blood had splattered his boots.

And Dinn? Well, he was grim and silent the whole time, only occasionally taking notice of an especially talented fighter by nodding. Once I thought about taking his hand, just to show that I understood that he wasn't very comfortable. But of course I didn't. A gesture like that could be construed as overtly romantic (which it, of course, was not...at least, not necessarily). Only a stupid courtier makes overtly romantic gestures in a very public box in a very public gathering where even the gossip-gluttons are going to get their fill. A bit later, I considered _telling_ him that I knew he wasn't comfortable and I was sorry he had to be here, but then I remembered Grand was sitting right on my other side. Dinn would never open up with Grand right there, so I stayed silent. And I ended up eating about three plates of flatbread and grapes, mostly because I was bored.

The last bout of the afternoon session was pretty interesting, a man with a two-handed broadsword versus a man with a boomerang (I'll let you guess how that turned out. Yes, you're right. You're exactly right. The man threw his boomerang, and it landed right in the other guy's mouth. As he was removing it, the boomerang guy punched him in the solar plexus, then knocked him out. And then he was disqualified.) I was more than glad to get up and stretch my legs. I was hoping to get some words in with Dinn, not having had a solid conversation with him since we'd arrived at Stormfist, but Boz swooped down and commandeered his attention. Donna went off to order Boz some honey-laced tea, as he'd been shouting the entire session and could now barely wheeze "Good fights! Damn good fights. Wish they hadn't disqualified the boomerang. Can't wait for the next rounds."


	42. Chapter 42

42

By now, you probably know what happened. Gizel Godwin won the Sacred Games, via proxy, of course. You probably weren't there to see it firsthand. I was. Well. What did everyone think?

Yes, we nobles were initially startled when Belcoot, the newcomer favorite, suddenly fell flat while fighting Gizel's man.

Yes, we suspected some foul play, from some quarter.

Yes, it made a strong impression on us.

Yes, we didn't contest the outcome.

After all, we'd gone into the game expecting a Barows or a Godwin champion. We'd been banking on it, pretty much. Belcoot had surprised all of us with his superb fighting skills (and good looks). It had been exciting to cheer him on. But I think, in the end, most of us nobles were glad he didn't win. We didn't know anything about him, his background, his motives. The Commander of the Queen's Knights can be a very alarming person when you don't know what to expect from him. I think the court breathed a polite sigh of relief when Gizel came up as the winner. At least we knew now to prepare ourselves for a push in militarism throughout Falena; we could handle anything we could expect.

Of course, we didn't expect what we got.

But there was no sign of that the night after Gizel won. Every family in the court threw a small party, made toasts to Lymsleia, Gizel and the royal family, and discussed any concerns in undertones. Grand was happy for Marscal Godwin, though he commented that Gizel probably had "more good looks than brains".

"It's good the Princess has been engaged this young," Grand remarked. "She'll learn to listen to her husband at a young age."

"She'll be the queen," I argued. "She has to make her own decisions."

Grand snorted. "Not with the Godwins by the throne. She won't need to make any decisions, unless she's another Falzrahm. Gizel will be the 'queen'. Hell, even Marscal will be a 'queen'. They just won't be ostentatious enough to wear crowns." He took a sip of wine. "I'll be interested to watch their progress. I think Falena will finally be collecting itself and taking a turn for the better."

Father seemed tense and worried. I think he was wondering about the Sun Rune and Marscal's very public interest in it. Boz, being Barows' ally, was a bit glum, but that didn't stop him from partying. Donna and Mother were both (at least on the surface) unconcerned. I never got to hear Dinn's impressions because I couldn't find him after ten-thirty that night.

How did I feel?

Well, it was Lymsleia's marriage, not mine. She was probably engaged to a very difficult man, but he was the royal family's problem. I only had to worry about how this union could affect Sable, and I didn't see how it would anytime soon. I did wonder if, years from now, Gizel would declare another open war on Armes and demand I send Sable's men to certain death. But that was just an abstract thought, so I didn't dwell on it.

After the parties, I felt a bit deflated. The Sacred Games were over. Back to home. How dull life would be until the engagement party. It wouldn't be for months.

And, in a few months, we wouldn't be able to attend it.

And, in a few months, life would change forever. It didn't matter if you were a goatherd on the outskirts of Yeshuna or Lymsleia Falenas herself, life would change. Mine too.


	43. Chapter 43

43

I'd been looking forward to the engagement party. Mother and I had new dresses made, and mine was white with silver and gold lotuses. I wanted to go to court and be seen in it (all right, yes, especially by Dinn), and I wanted to observe people's reactions to the changing events. But a week before we were to set out for Sol Falena, Dinn's second-in-command led his regiment through our front gates in a tight, military formation.

I was with Grand, and his eyes sharpened instantly. "They've taken prisoners." As the regiment drew closer, I saw that there were ten people on foot, tied to the horses. We instantly congregated in the courtyard. Dinn had practically just woken up and was strapping Al Sabah over his back.

Rej, Dinn's second, dismounted and bowed to Father. "My lord, Sir Dinn, we found these Armes soldiers just east of East Tower."

Father frowned. "Have you asked their business?" Grand snorted. In his opinion, asking any Armes his business is time wasted when you can be lopping his head off.

"These men are under the command of Damaspia Guisu. Guisu is the one in the front."

Guisu. That would be some relation to Jidan Giusu. I searched the front rank of the soldiers for a blob of suet stuffed in silk, but I found a woman who couldn't be any more than ten years older than me. She was shorter than me with straight blue-black hair, cut to her shoulders and longer in the front. She wore a copper band around her head and was dressed in the subdued colors of a soldier, as were the rest of them. They were wary, and I hoped that Rej's men had conducted a thorough search for any concealed weapons.

Rej continued, "She refused to state her business in crossing the border. We took her prisoner."

"Did she offer resistance?" Father wanted to know.

"Of course," Rej and Grand said at once. This wasn't boding well for the Armes.

Father nodded. "Have them put in prison."

Rej's men led the prisoners off. Dinn beckoned to Rej. "Why didn't you send a courier?"

Rej grimaced. "The bitch was sending signals before we captured her. There may be more. I left every man in the Tower on guard."

"So there may be reinforcements. Or a ruse." Dinn was thoughtful a moment, then looked sharply at Father.

Father seemed to suddenly become aware that we were staring at him. He sighed tiredly. "We'll issue a ransom, of course. There's no sense massacring them."

"If you don't mind that they crossed our border," Grand said.

"There's no sense massacring them," Father repeated. Grand swore.

"My lord," said Dinn, "given Sable and Armes' past...relationship, I would advise sending for a third party to act as a mediator."

Translation: maybe we won't jump up and slaughter each other indiscriminately if there's someone here to catch us at it.

"_If_ they agree to pay the ransom," said Mother.

"I hope they don't," Grand said to no one in particular.

"Damaspia Guisu," Father repeated. "Does anyone have any idea who she is?"

We all looked blank.

"I'm fairly sure Jidan Guisu has no children," Rej said. "At least, none legitimately bearing the family name. She may be a cousin or a niece."

Father rubbed his forehead. "Guisu...Guisu... they belong to the Sparna clan, but, as I recall, they're not too powerful." He sighed. "Sun above, I hope King Jalaat doesn't get mixed up in this. Let's keep this transaction as painless as possible."

"Who will mediate?" Mother asked.

Father looked up at the sky. "Excellent question."


	44. Chapter 44

44

Who would mediate over our little ransom-transaction with Armes? After we received a missive from the head of the Sparna clan that our ransom would indeed be paid, the perfect candidate came to mind. The Falenan noble who had already been agitating for peace between Falena and Armes, and one noble who most assuredly wouldn't regret missing congratulating the Godwins at the engagement party:

Salum Barows.

"Oh hell," said Grand.

Mother peered out the window. "Their cavalcade is halfway through the gate. That's Salum's carriage...Oh, another carriage. Euram must have come too."

"Oh damn," said Grand.

Mother pursed her lips. "I wonder why he's in a black carriage."

Father, a bit tense, eyed us as he moved down the staircase. "We can't exactly receive them in the upstairs hall."

"I'll see you later," Grand said.

I, not being a crotchety old man, could not get away from the greetings. We Raulbels joined Dinn and Rej in the receiving chamber, and we arranged ourselves around Father's chair.

Salum Barows strode in, his stomach bouncing like a rubber ball. He flourished a hand that sparkled with cut sapphires and emeralds at Father. "Ah, Solis, how good to see you again."

Father agreed that it was very nice to see him again.

Euram Barows trailed after his father, his lanky figure swathed in black. Even his silk stockings were a subdued gray. The corners of his mouth dripped in a dreary frown. He cast one look at us, then flung his gaze towards the window, which faced a paddock. He sighed so heavily he probably ruffled the fur of the grazing horses.

While Father and Barows continued to express their joy at seeing each other again, Mother leaned slightly in my direction. "Lymsleia."

Ah. True enough. Tomorrow in Sol Falena, she would be officially engaged to Gizel Godwin.

I eyed Euram Barows anew. While Father and Barows discussed the weather, Euram had drifted to a vase of flowers by the window. They were made of silk, flowers being pretty scarce here, but Euram didn't seem to notice. He plucked one silk rose and began to absently shred it. When he looked out the window again, the sunlight reflected off of tears in his eyes. His suffering seemed genuine.

E-w-w-w-w-w. Lymsleia was only ten, for pity's sake.

We made it through dinner pretty well, even Grand. Barows talked loudly throughout. He seemed to have something to say about everything. The conversation ranged over trading in south-west Nagarea, the various varieties of syllabubs, how many minks you had to kill to make a decent winter coat, the habits of DoReMi elves, the fall of the Kulook Empire, hibiscus flowers, tongs, indoor plumbing, mosaic portraiture and chinchillas. Euram punctuated the occasional silence with heartfelt sighs and stirred his soup for ten minutes. When a breast of roast pheasant was placed before him, he dug his fork in and began twisting it back and forth.

Finally after dinner, talk turned to the Armes prisoners. The Armes delegation was close to Sable; Dinn's furthest sentries had seen them at noon. Hopefully, the transaction could be completed by this time tomorrow. Hopefully, Barows wouldn't find any reason to visit with us indefinitely.

"Lymmie..." sighed Euram.


	45. Chapter 45

45

Jidan Guisu hadn't slimmed any in seven years. In fact, I think he was larger. He arrived at the Sable wall in a golden chair carried by four sweaty slaves. A heavily-tattooed male bodygaurd stood ready. Guisu fanned himself with an enormous spray of peacock feathers.

Political discussions are terribly boring; I think so, at least. I'm not going to go into this one. It wasn't exciting. Barows worked back and forth between both camps, ingratiating himself in turns to Sable and Armes. Guisu watched him with interest and suspicion (did he sense a rival in the heavy-weight class?) Both the ransom and the prisoners were exchanged in increments, making our time in the hot sun extremely lengthy. I fanned myself, trying to pay attention, trying not to notice the sweat oozing down my lower back, trying not to imagine all those courtiers in Sol Falena, sipping honeywine, standing next to cool waterfalls and pleasant pools. I watched Dinn some as he oversaw the transactions. He certainly did look in command. So much more imposing than that gaudy pudding with the mustache and the chair. Such nice shoulders. Had it really been ten years since he'd been at the head of a slave line, being whacked in the face by one of Father's books?

Grand lightly smacked my wrist with his own, not hard enough to hurt. "Pay attention, Salisha. Don't ogle."

"I_ was_ paying attention," I whispered back. "I was watching, er, Dinn oversee the prisoners."

"Watch Guisu."

Reluctantly, I focused on the Armes noble. If I was sweaty, he was practically drenched; even the two slaves fanning him didn't seem to be helping. I tried to discern what Grand wanted me to notice. Barows crossed back into Guisu's line of vision. They exchanged glances.

I leaned half an inch closer to Grand, hoping I wasn't drawing attention to myself. "I suppose...Guisu knows Barows has an interest in Armes' relations with Falena."

"Everyone does," Grand replied, speaking under his breath. "Barows and Guisu have singled each other out."

I raised an eyebrow.

Grand narrowed his eyes. "I don't trust that lard-assed sycophant. Either one. It wouldn't surprise me if Barows sold us out to Armes."

I fanned myself. My first instinct was fear, but I reflected that Grand was always a bit paranoid when it came to New Armes. If Armes ever did break into Sable, it could be devastating; we had centuries of conflicts to be bitter over. But despite my fear, I was determined to be rational. Father had trusted Salum Barows to come and mediate, and Dinn had expressed no concern. I strongly felt that Father and Dinn had a more accurate view of affairs than Grand, who will probably never separate himself from his violent past.

I spoke softly. "I don't think Guisu can harm us. According to what we've heard, he's not even powerful in Armes."

"True enough," Grand answered. "I just hope someone succeeds in assassinating Barows one of these years."

I glared sidelong. "That's vile, and you know it. The last thing we need are more assassinations among the nobility."

Grand smiled. "I'm vile, and you know it." He turned his attention back to the transaction. "An assassination wouldn't be necessary, I suppose, but it would certainly take a load off my mind." He frowned at Guisu's sweaty profile. "You can't trust the Armes."

The transaction was over by sunset. We'd received a welcome amount of goods, provisions, several fine Armes stallions to augment our stables, and sumptuous fabrics. Mother and I spent a good hour oooing over them. The Armes delegation left with Damaspia and her riders safe and sound. We Raulbels settled gratefully down to dinner that night, our pleasure only diminished by the fact that Barows did _not_ say he would be leaving for Rainwall the next morning.

"Oh Lymmie," Euram sniffed brokenly into his wineglass.

Grand rolled his eyes. "I'm sure the betrothal ceremony is well over by now."

Euram buried his face in a yellow silk handkerchief embroidered with white dolphins.

After dinner, when Barows started in on a long discussion about how well the negotiations had gone, which led (somehow) to a treatise on the courtship rituals of furfurs, I needed some air. I excused myself and went on the balcony. I suddenly felt blank. What had I come out here for? There was nothing to do. There was nothing to look at. The stars were lovely, and the moon was a perfect half, but I didn't want to look at the moon. Great, now I felt anxious and uneasy. Why? Was it Grand's words from earlier? That had to be it.

I went back inside and knocked on Dinn's door. "I have a question for you."

We went back to the balcony. I belatedly wondered if this was...misleading. I really only wanted to talk about the negotiations. "Dinn, did you see how Guisu and Barows were taking notice of each other today?"

Dinn looked absolutely blank. Actually, no, I think he was struggling not laugh. "In...what way, my lady?"

Talk about misconstruing my statement. I sighed impatiently. "In a way that might be dangerous for Sable." His expression turned serious, and I pressed my point. "Grand seemed to think so. Do you think, I don't know, Barows has been communicating with Armes?"

Dinn seemed unruffled. "There's no reason why he couldn't, I suppose. I don't know of any law that bars communication with Armes. He can talk all he wants, but he'd need the approval of Queen Arshtat and most of the senate to establish peaceful relations with Armes."

I felt nervous. Probably still anxious about what I'd seen. "But -what about some sort of crazy coup?"

I could see that Dinn came pretty close to laughing outright. "It would have to be pretty crazy, my lady. Barows is in no position to try anything that drastic."

"Oh," I said. "Well." I tried not to fidget uncomfortably. "I'm relieved to hear that." I fumbled around in my brain for some way to gracefully introduce another topic of conversation.

Dinn glanced beyond me to one of the living room windows. It was slightly open, and I could hear Barows saying, "I always think that you make the best jelly from white grapes, not red ones, which are pulpy." After a moment, Dinn took a step towards me.

Oh no, I suddenly thought. What's going to happen now? Is he going to make a move? How dare he. Should I let him? What if he doesn't? What should I do? Should I let him kiss me? Do I want to be kissed? Would that look too eager? Should I slap him? I've never slapped anyone before. What if I miss and whack the side of the house instead? What if it scares him off? He'd never kiss me. He wouldn't be that presumptuous. Do I want him to kiss me? Seriously, I thought all of that in under three seconds. I remember it quite clearly.

"My lady?" Dinn said.

I raised an eyebrow and tried to look vaguely bored. "Mm?"

Dinn was looking at my hands. Oh Sun above, please don't let them start shaking. What if he took my hand? Hand-holding isn't as presumptuous as a kiss. Should I let him do that?

Why the hell wasn't he _saying_ anything?

He looked suddenly up at my face. "Are you all right, my lady? You seem tense."

I waved my hand (not shaking) breezily. "I'm fine. Just a little unhappy Barow's in the house, you know."

"Oh. Well." Dinn cleared his throat. "My lady... Lady Salisha, I-"

"Damn that bastard!" squealed Euram Barows.

We both wheeled on the intruder. Dinn would probably never admit it, but I swear that he reached for the hilt of his nodachi for just a moment as Euram stormed past us, punching a white fist onto the balcony ledge.

"Damn the lying cheater!" Euram railed, pacing back and forth like the shuttle on a loom. "He knew he didn't deserve my Lymmie! He knew it! He had to resort to cheating! In a true test of love's purity, any imbecile could see that I-"

I took a deep breath, assuming my sternest voice. "Lord Euram-"

"-am a paragon of all innocent desires, an excess of all manly virtues, while he is nothing more than a lecherous, conniving blackguard with a heart of-"

"Lord Euram," I tried again, my tone roughly translating into "Buzz off before _I _grab the nodachi and pitchfork you off the balcony."

"-noxious putrescence that will break dear Lymmie's soul and- and- OH, the inhumanity!" he shouted, loud enough to rattle the stars a bit. He grimaced and stomped several yards down the balcony.

Dinn turned back to me. I think I grabbed his hands, but maybe it was the other way around. I looked up into his face. Oh yes, I definitely wanted to be kissed.

"Lady Salisha," Dinn said softly, "I-"

Light slammed into my eyes, so brilliant I could feel my nerves recoil in pain. Dinn turned to look and had to shield his face from the glare. Farther up the balcony, Euram shrieked.

I couldn't see anything at first. I'd been facing the source of the light, north, and it was far brighter than the flash over Lordlake. When my vision returned, I saw that the others had rushed out onto the balcony. Blinking tears out of my eyes, I saw Mother just as she came to my side.

"The Sun Rune," said Grand.

"Th-th-that-" Barow's face was as white as lard. "It came from the Sun Palace."

Father mouthed an oath. "What could have-?"


	46. Chapter 46

46

I don't know.

Do you ever know what to do when it's not about you? I don't think that sentence made any sense, but I can't think of any other way to describe it. I suppose I still hold onto the childhood belief that I'm the Center of the Universe, though I'd never believe it literally.

I had a stake in it. I was desperate to know that everything would turn out all right. But it wasn't about me at all, and I wasn't paid any attention and-

Stop it. I'm just whining now. Forget I said that. I'm supposed to be strong, right? Take after Grand and all that. Yeah.

The Godwin uprising frightened me. I knew that it meant big things, horrible things, but I wasn't close enough to Sol Falena to guess the exact forms they'd take. I didn't know what it would mean for Sable, for my family, for myself. All I wanted was assurance, and all I got was Dinn riding away to join Lord Barows and the Prince in Rainwall.

No, that's not true either. Father and Mother tried to reason it out with me, but we had no solid answers. When Father learned that both the Prince and Princess had survived, but that the Prince had escaped from the Sun Palace and sought to oppose the Godwin rule, he didn't have to deliberate long. Even Grand was subdued by the takeover. I suppose he never imagined that Godwin would turn his warmongering against the queen herself. Barows quickly told us that he would be harboring the Prince and his retainers, Father immediately told Dinn to take his best men and join them.

I think the day we saw him off was the prettiest of the entire summer, without a single cloud daring to enter the perfect blue sky. Dinn and his men had been busy for days, preparing to ride out, and now they were all milling in the front courtyard, checking their horses' equipment, saying goodbye. Getting to Rainwall fast was Dinn's priority, so he couldn't afford the luxury of too many camp followers, only two wagons of supplies and equipment. He'd been conferring with Father and Grand for the past week, and now, at the last minute, he was still neck-deep in a conversation with them. I crossed my arms and tried to be patient. You'll guess how well that went.

Mother, on Dinn's other side, wanted to know if he'd packed a heavier tunic, it's colder up north, you know, Dinn, are you listening? Dinn? _Dinn!_ While Dinn was trying to answer her question and one of Father's questions about whether he was going to be taking archers, Mother gestured at me. "Stop tapping your foot like that and get him a heavy tunic."

I was actually too impatient to make any sarcastic comment about how I was so happy to be a maid in the Noble House of Sable. I went back inside and hunted around Dinn's room. He was leaving it scrupulously neat without even a loose paper in sight. Heaving open a trunk, I sorted out the heaviest tunic I could find and rolled it under my arm. As I stood, I actually saw something that was very out of place. I walked over to the bedside table and picked it up.

It was that frilly fan I'd given him ages ago.

I turned it over in my hand. Not even dusty. I didn't know he'd kept it.

I stood undecided for a moment. Then I wrapped the fan in the heavy tunic, and went back outside. Dinn was coming up for air in a discussion about Rainwall's geography, so I handed the tunic over. "My mother's right. You need to take care of yourself."

"Thank y-"

"_Yes_, Dinn," Mother said. "You did pack bandages, didn't you? Dinn-"

"My la-"

"Are you certain you have sufficient men?" Father asked. "I'm sure we can spare some of the soldiers from-"

"I know-"

"Remember," Grand said, "if they send Novum against you, you'll have to-"

"Yes, I-"

"Dinn," I said, "you_ will_ write?"

"Of course-"

"Well, you do have a habit of forgetting. You forgot to write to your family for three years and-"

"And you _have_ to take care of yourself," Mother said, practically poking him in the chest.

Dinn stared around at us, his mouth half-forming words. "I -yes - I shall endeavor to..."

"You shall endeavor to get going," Grand retorted. "Marscal's no procrastinator."

Dinn walked over to Spook's side, putting the tunic in one of his saddlebags, nodding in reply to another flurry of advice from Father. No, I couldn't get close to him. I couldn't exactly shove my father out of the way. I gripped my elbows, wanting to say something... "Please be careful."

Amazingly, he heard me. Before he mounted, he turned to me. Then he glanced at Father, who was talking about Rainwall's garrison. He looked back at me, nodded, then swung into the saddle.

Oh, I suppose it was all very poignant. The look he gave me kept me transfixed until the entire company had ridden off. I don't even want to know what my face looked like. When the noise and dust from the horses' hooves was gone, I felt empty.

_Why_ hadn't I kissed him goodbye?!


	47. Chapter 47

47

_Dear Donna,_

_I imagine you don't have much time for writing or reading letters, now that Boz is gone and you're taking care of Estrise all by your lonesome. Have you heard anything from Boz? About the war, I mean, not a bunch of lovey-dovey mush about how much he misses you. Dinn, to no one's surprise, has not written me a word. If he's really that busy, I'll forgive him, though it may take a while. Reliable information doesn't come very fast, to our frustration. The recent battle at Rainwall has Grand concerned; he doesn't think much of its defenses, even much less of the pastry that runs it. Father hopes that the Prince is leaning more on Boz and Dinn than on Barows. Of course, the worst thing that could happen is if the Prince tries to lead the army himself. People's lives should not be put into the hands of a boy._

_Lymsleia's still in Sol Falena, but Sable will remain loyal to her by helping the Prince. I'll bet anything she's being held against her will. I don't know the Princess - Queen - Lymsleia well, but she strikes me as a girl of spirit. Of course, Godwin and Gizel are capable of breaking it. _

_We've been keeping busy at home. It was mainly Grand's idea -all about how anyone who isn't fighting has to contribute in other ways. Being a lord's daughter, I haven't been relegated to the menial tasks (I'd probably be more hindrance than help anyway). Grand immediately packed me off to help train the cavalry horses. Of course, I'm not allowed to help training in the combat situations, but I can do the light exercise and work on their dodging. Chaz has been helping with the combat training. _

_I spoke with Madelon the other day, the first time in ages. She was crying behind the apothecary. It really unnerved me. I mean, there she was, a grown woman, six months pregnant, crying like a little girl. Apparently Rhone left with Dinn, and she's worried about him. I can understand that. I tried to comfort her but wasn't any good at it. I just can't be sympathetic in that sort of situation, I start talking about how we have to fight and she needs to take care of herself... I don't know. Maybe I did some good._

_I found myself thinking, later on, what if I _had_ taken Mother's advice and learned the sword? What if I had turned out halfway decent at it? Would Father have let me go to war? Would I feel better if I was facing the war with Dinn? Or would it be so much worse?_

_I don't know, Donna. I live in this military town. I've seen the after-effects of skirmishes. I've never seen war before. I don't think I want to. I want the fighting to end very quickly._

_But I think I know enough about war to guess that won't be happening._

_Enough of that. How are Keith and Kurtz?_

_Yours,_

_Salisha_

_Good grief, Salisha!_

_Reading your letter, I see they haven't been working you hard enough! Why are you worrying about Dinn? He's your very own General, he knows exactly what he's doing. Don't waste your time on him. Keep working. If, as you tuck yourself into bed at night, you still have the energy to fret over your beloved, you are not working hard enough. Here, I'll send Keith and Kurtz over. They'll keep you busy._

_I am serious though. Right now, Dinn, the Prince, the battles are not your concern. Your attention has to stay on the task in front of you: keeping Sable battle-ready. The people need their governing family's attention, primarily the heir's attention. Good? Good._

_I haven't heard much from Boz; he really isn't much of a writer, so I doubt I've learned any more than you have. He does write a charming love-letter however, in his own way._

_Now, stop reading this letter and get back to work._

_Yours,_

_Donna_

Looking over this letters now is strange food for thought. Of course Donna was right. No, I've never felt any need to let her know that.

So, this was me at the start of the war. How do you think it evolved from here?


	48. Chapter 48

48

As I'm sure you know, it was not a short war. Actually, according to the history books, it was a blessedly short war, being fewer than two years long. But to anyone who wasn't a historian, it was like a lifetime.

When the war was over, it was like Falena breathed a sigh of relief, like the first warmth of spring. Finally, we could sleep soundly again. And finally our soldiers came home, Dinn at their head, looking proud and handsome. We were married shortly after and...

...actually, that was one of most realistic of my daydreams. Remind me some time to tell you about the one where I ride off to war on my own with Grand's sword, and I find Dinn wounded in the middle of the Twilight Forest. And I luckily have bandages (and knowledge of treating injuries), and of course it's a chest wound so he has to take off his shirt.

Ahem. Anyway.

The war continued, and in one way it was hideous and awful, not knowing what was happening. In another way, it was tedious. In history books and legends, you only hear the high points; in real life, you totally miss the high points and then have to run around asking everyone to fill you in afterwards.

"What?" I asked. "Armes invaded Falena? How? _When?_"

Grand slammed his fist down on the table. "Damn that bastard! Solis! Did I tell you to trust Barows?"

I had just come into Father's study after training some horses. I looked blankly from Grand to Father, whose face was tense.

"What happened?"

Father rubbed his forehead, obviously trying to come to terms with his own impatience. "Forgive me, Father, I thought there were some things even Salum Barows couldn't stoop to."

Grand bared his teeth. "There is nothing a snake can't stoop to." He slammed his fist again. "Damn him!"

I was alarmed. I don't like being alarmed, so I was more than ready to join the anger party. "What did Barows do?"

Grand swung around. "Ask them!"

I looked blankly at Grand, then jumped as I noticed two soldiers standing beyond him. It took me a half-second to realize that they were Rhone and Varin, two men of Dinn's personal unit. Both were dusty and sweaty, and Varin seemed to be deliberately bracing his legs.

Father spoke for them. "Dinn dispatched them here earlier this week. They've just arrived. It seems... Barows has been in league with Jidan Guisu."

I didn't feel any inclination to whoop "I told you so."

"He helped Guisu enter Falena from the east, behind Rainwall, and beyond our border patrols." Father sighed and rubbed his forehead. "Apparently Barows had some dream of joining with Armes and establishing his own kingdom in the east. Guisu had a unit ready in the Rainwall Forest. Dinn drove them off."

I looked quickly at Varin and Rhone. "Where _is_ Dinn?"

"Use your brain, Salisha," Grand muttered, staring angrily out the window. "He's escorting Guisu' fat ass back to Armes."

Rhone swallowed. "General Dinn feared that Guisu might take the shortest route back to Armes. Through Sable. When we left, he was chasing Guisu east into the mountains. He said he would return when he felt it was safe."

"He wasn't hurt?" I blurted.

"Salisha," Grand muttered. I'm not sure if it was in a "shut-up" or a "don't worry" way.

"No, my lady."

I pressed my lips together, still worried.

"It doesn't end with Guisu," Father said. "Barows' treachery runs deeper."

I turned to Father. "What are you talking about?"

Within weeks, the story of Barows' involvement with the Lordlake tragedy had spread, sped on when we learned how the Prince had reclaimed the Dawn Rune. Grand viewed this as a good sign. "Marscal's never been afraid of the Sun Rune," he said. "Now the Prince can fight back."

Father looked subdued. "I worry for him. Such a young boy... Powerful Runes are heavy burdens."

"Let's hope he doesn't run away with delusions of grandeur," said Mother.

"He's under the guidance of Lady Merces," said Father. "She's never been overeager to use Runes."

"Guidance?" Grand repeated. "Are you sure he isn't under her command? Lucretia Merces is a back-stabbing bitch."

Father and Mother glanced at each other, probably thinking of Lady Merces' famous betrayal of Godwin two years ago. I tried not to show my annoyance for Grand; why should he side with Godwin in anything?

One night, only a bit after moonrise, when I was combing my hair and getting ready for bed, I heard two riders gallop into the courtyard under my window. In a few minutes, Mother was knocking at my door. "Those were two of Dinn's outriders. The unit's returned!"

Actually, it wasn't until after I'd scrambled back into my clothes, found a pair of shoes, skittered downstairs and waited for another quarter hour before the unit rode under our front gate, more outriders bearing lit torches. I searched for Spook's pale hide in the milling horses and eventually found Dinn dismounting on the margins of the crowd. Father and Grand had already shouldered their way to him.

I'd thought the unit's return would be a joyous and triumphant moment, but it was heavy and subdued. We'd only retreated from the war. With Barows' alliance broken, Sable would look to defending itself. Our involvement in the war would be determined by the principals' movements: the Godwins and the Prince.

"Which way do you think this will go?" Father asked, maybe for the fifth time. We'd let Dinn sit down and eat, but he wasn't allowed to relax. "Will the Prince bow under the Godwins?"

"It depends on how much pressure they apply," Grand said darkly.

Dinn glanced up from his soup. He had a bruise on his jaw and dark rings under his eyes but seemed otherwise unhurt. "I do not think the Prince will give up easily." He took another gulp of soup. "As far as I could tell, he never drew his resolve from Barows. I feel that he will fight as long as he has to."

Father shot a worried look at Mother, then me. Was he thinking about the Dawn Rune and of all the damage that weapon could create in the hands of a desperate young man? Was he thinking of the Prince's mother and the hideous choice she'd made with her Rune?

Our conversation that night ran in circles, reiterating what we already knew and speculating on what we didn't. Father did not want to send our men back into the battle. "Sable will present a neutral front," he said, eyeing us calmly. "We will give Marscal Godwin no reason to attack us. Nor will we give the Prince any reason to seek our aid."

"But you want to help him," I said, downright accusingly.

Father drew a deep breath. "I hope that, out of this bloody war, will come a commander I can honorably swear my loyalty to." He paused. "And I hope it will be the Prince."

Did I speak to Dinn that night? No. He left with several of his men to ride down to East Tower, to oversee the garrison. I could understand why: we couldn't afford to let Armes slip past us a second time, so Dinn would have to divert more soldiers there. He smiled at me as he left though. It wasn't much, but I felt ridiculously pleased and sat out on the balcony to watch them ride off.

"Aren't you supposed to be in bed?"

I turned. "I notice you aren't."

Grand joined me on the balcony, also taking a moment to watch Dinn's small cavalcade ride into the mountains, their tall torches bobbing with the horses' movement.

I sighed. "Doesn't he ever rest?"

"He's a general," Grand answered, a bit of pride in his voice.

I didn't know whether to be pleased that Grand approved so heartily of Dinn or to be angry with him for Dinn's sake. I decided to be quiet, for once.

"Are you going to marry him?"

I looked down at my hands. "I don't know."

He pivoted to regard me head-on. "Don't you?"

"That's right."

"Lift your chin."

A bit reluctantly, I looked up.

"Salisha, there's something you should know." His tone was serious but not in a nasty way. He even seemed a bit hesitant. "War is...a bad time for this sort of thing."

I frowned, but he couldn't see it in the dim light. "I don't understand."

"Your courtship. War is no time to be in love."

I looked quickly away. I hadn't _said_ I was in love, had I? I tried to keep my tone just as serious, though I felt uncomfortable. "Why are you saying this?"

"For your good, of course," Grand said brusquely. There was a long silence; I could tell that Grand was about to say something, but he was quiet. Was he summoning the composure?

"Listen, Salisha, years ago... You were just a little girl, I don't think you were more than two or three... Well," he said abruptly, "you remember how I lost my arm?"

"Yes. You were chasing a Black Merchant across the border." Grand was quiet. Awkward, I struggled to fill the silence. "You said you got distracted, and he took it off with a katana."

"Distracted," Grand repeated. "Yes. Yes, that's it exactly. You were probably too small to remember that day now."

I nodded. "All I know is what I've heard from the stories."

"Yes...and Melissa would have kept you from all the blood anyway... Do you remember that it happened just a few weeks after your grandmother's death?"

I sat up, staring hard through the darkness at Grand. "No."

Grand was just a silhouette at this point, but I saw him nod. "Let's say... I was more than distracted, Salisha."

I didn't speak, unable to imagine Grand too distraught to defend himself in battle.

My grandmother, Kassja, died when she was relatively young. There used to be a hospital in our mountains, placed near the border so that anyone who needed healing could get to it and avoid the death-warrant that Grand issued to anyone caught crossing in or out of Falena. My grandmother had periodically gone there to oversee its upkeep and lend moral support. The day she died, there was a sudden influx of patients from the local warring of the mountain tribes. As the nurses were treating the wounded, several of the tribe warriors rode up and set the clinic on fire.

I don't remember her at all. As I got older, I felt sorry for her for dying in such a horrible way and anger at the warriors who would attack a hospital. But I'd never felt devastated. And while I imagined that Grand must have felt pain at her death, I never thought he might have been undone by it. For the first time, I felt upset, mostly for Grand. I also felt like I had intruded on some part of him I shouldn't have seen. I didn't speak.

"But you understand now," Grand said, his voice smoother. "War is hard enough on its own without adding distractions."

"You don't want me to distract Dinn?" I said softly.

He snorted. "Don't sound like a martyr. I'm not telling you to give him the silent treatment."

I sighed impatiently.

"I'm saying," Grand went on, "don't make promises. Not just yet."

I didn't answer, thinking over what he'd told me. Well, of course, a war wouldn't be a good time for a wedding or even an engagement. Still, I worried so much for Dinn. I didn't want to worry in silence. And if Dinn had to go back to war, back to face death, I wanted him to know I-

I looked up at my warrior grandfather. Lost arm or not, that had been his last battle. Had it all been because of the arm, or had it been my grandmother?

Could Dinn falter because of me? Was I in danger of being killed? No. Sable was safe. Still...

I thought of Madelon, unable to cope during Rhone's absence. Could that happen to me? I thought of how much I brooded over Dinn's welfare, even now. I owed it to myself to be careful. With the civil war, no one had time to think about anything else. But it seemed so heartless, like a lie.

I shook myself. Grand was right. It wasn't like I'd be giving Dinn the cold shoulder. I'd just be careful.

I stood up and kissed Grand's cheek. He pretended to grimace. I told him good night and went inside.


	49. Chapter 49

49

"...Now, the fifty barrels of mead here I don't know about, I suspect they've come outta Rainwall, but who's to say they aren't genuine Razril import? I'm just thinking that we're getting them awfully cheap if they are."

I brushed a lock of hair behind my ear, using it as a pretense for rubbing my right temple. "It's just getting worse, isn't it?"

Laraine glanced up at me, then down at the enormous scroll in her hands. "What's getting worse?"

"The Rainwall smuggling."

"Oh yeah." She made a few ticks down her list of imports. "Old Barows is trying to lock down everything he has, stockpile, I guess. His merchants aren't too happy. They want to dump their goods as fast as they can and get out."

An unlikely prospect, as ever since the Dawn Rune scandal, Barows had closed the roads to Rainwall, barred the gates of his city and continued hiding inside. His people were clearly suffering for it; we didn't need verification from spies to tell us that. Goods had only just begun to leak out of his city. I remembered enough from my lessons to know that with all the goods holed up in the same place, the prices would be rock-bottom. Distributing them widely would bring in more money to the desperate Rainwall merchants, contraband or not.

"So you think these really came from Rainwall?"

Laraine thumped the nearest barrel. "I think they've been freshly painted. See? I bet you could hide the Barows crest under this paint." She looked quickly up at me. "So, you going to take them? Tainted money or not?"

I pursed my lips. "I'll have to consult my father."

She nodded. "See that you do, Lady Salisha. If not, I want to take these to someone who wants them as fast as possible." At the sound of wagon wheels, she glanced over her shoulder. "Oh look. I think you've got more, er, imports coming in."

I felt pretty foolish telling all the merchants that I'd have to get my father's approval before allowing them to sell their wares in Sable. They gave me baleful "I thought you Raulbels were in charge here" looks followed by pleading "You're no longer Barows' ally, why should you observe his sanctions?" gazes. I kept reminding them that my father had only left for the morning and would return after noon.

Still, by the time four wayfarers shuffled under our front gate, dusty to the eyebrows, I told Chaz to go see to them first. Maybe if their first view was of a soldier, they'd leave.

They didn't. I waited on the front step as Chaz spoke to them, then returned to me. "They are refugees, my lady."

"Refugees?" I repeated over an unpleasant shock of guilt. Giving them a second look, I saw they couldn't possibly be merchants. They only had one small burro to carry their possessions, and one of them was cradling a small dog. After wanting to drive them off, I suddenly felt it was my duty to see to them personally. As Chaz and I approached, the young woman with the dog eyed us warily.

"Welcome to Sable," I said, wondering if I should public speak, if that would be too cold. "I am Salisha Raulbel. Is there anything I can do?"

The girl with the dog shrugged. Another one, an older man with black hair, shifted his weight from foot to foot. The other two, a redheaded boy and girl who might be siblings, just glanced at each other. They all looked exhausted, their identical white jackets dingy with grime.

I don't like one-sided conversations, but I plunged on. "You are refugees? Where from?"

The girl with the dog swallowed. "Haud Village. As comfortable as it is there, we... wanted to put distance between ourselves and Rainwall."

Haud Village. Some memory tickled the back of my mind. I'd never been there, only ever heard of it, but... hadn't Grand once said he'd rather live in Armes than in Haud?

"You are welcome here, of course. There are several inns you can stay at, and if you want to take up residence here, you can..." I trailed off, watching the refugees. Introductions over, they had just walked past me, staring keenly at the front of Sable.

"All this dust," the redheaded girl said.

"Like stagnation," said the older man.

"My Muse feels gritty," said the dog-girl.

"Don't lose hope," said the red-haired boy. "Inspiration may arise from any quarter."

I raised my eyebrows at Chaz.

That afternoon I was raising my eyebrows at Dinn as I noticed him coming out of the White Ox Inn. I beckoned to Chaz and we caught up with him right in front of the apothecary.

"What were you doing in there? Don't tell me you're scrubbing tables and making beds for extra coin."

Dinn gave me a cursory smile. "Nothing as fulfilling as that. I was trying to interrogate a soldier." He looked very tired.

"A...soldier?"

"Forgive me." He ran a hand through his hair and seemed to collect himself. "We took some of Guisu's private bodyguards prisoner, as you know. One of them, this enormous brute with a spear... I almost decapitated him during the skirmish. He was such a brilliant fighter, I hated to see him die."

"You sentimental fool."

"So, with your father's permission, he's being treated at the White Ox."

"It doesn't bother you that he's from Armes?"

"It does," said Dinn, unusually diffident. "But skill is skill. I'd sooner see him live than kill him."

"What are you going to do with the other Armes prisoners?"

"Some of the mountain roads are in a deplorable condition. I'm going to put the stronger ones to work on those in case we have to-"

"OH SHINING SUN ABOVE!" a new voice wailed.

It couldn't see who it was at first because Chaz instantly put himself between me and the wailer. Dinn pivoted but didn't move to draw his sword. After a moment, Chaz stepped aside, and I was able to get a clear view.

It was the girl from Haud, still cradling her dog. Behind her were her three fellow refugees, and all of them were advancing on Dinn with shining faces.

"Look at that visage," the redheaded boy was saying, "the dichotomy of juxtaposed disconsolation, levity and ennui!"

The dark-haired man had his hands in front of his face, as though framing Dinn's head. "The rigidity of his bearing -I -I could see him holding a severed head in his left hand, couldn't you?"

"The stark chiaroscuro of his features," the redheaded girl was saying. "That face is a veritable aqueduct of protoclassical aesthetics!"

I couldn't see Dinn's face (aqueduct?), but I could hear the frown in his voice. "With all respect, I don't appreciate being mocked."

The four Haudites exchanged startled looks. Then the older man stepped forward.

"Mockery? No! I would sooner destroy the dome of the Sun Palace than mock you. You are-" His eyes went misty again. "You are the most- the best example of neoteric physiognomy of the late Brummagem style I have ever had the honor of -of- looking at!"

Dinn was obviously still frowning, because the red-haired girl stepped quickly forward. "We are from Haud Village. We're artists. We've come here for refuge. We thought the utter ghastliness of this place would slay our Muses, but now -you've come along! Oh please, won't you let us paint you?"

There was a profound silence.

"All at once?" I asked, uninvited.

The girl with the dog nodded vigorously. "Oh yes. We always collaborate on the same canvas. We are the Sham Quartet." The next silence, though shorter, was just as profound. "We named ourselves after the dog." Sham yipped.

It took a while to get more information out of them. Dinn or I would try to dig for explanations, and they'd go inexplicably winging away about neoclassical failures, the value of sumi ink and something called _plein air_. They eventually told us that they had been greatly celebrated in Haud.

"It was we," said Scheryn, Sham's keeper, "who painted the front gates. Oh yes, and that mural on South Street -the one with the dancing cacti and inverted fish pond. Oh, and did you see the sculpture of the bat-winged giraffe?"

Twenty minutes later, while they describing to Dinn about how they had constructed a twenty-foot wide portrait of Commander Ferid entirely out of confetti, Father called me away to help with the merchants. Of course, he had it all figured out, but he wanted me to be there and observe. (We ended up buying much of the contraband goods, with fairly free consciences. Rainwall had been one of our vital trading partners, and Barows had no right to destroy his people's livelihoods.)

I didn't see Dinn again until supper, when he came to the table looking more tired than ever. He gave me a wan glance and said, "They followed me all afternoon, making sketches the whole time."

"It was worse than that," Rej told me later. "He'd be in the middle of issuing orders, and one of them would yell, 'Hold that expression! It's magnificent!', and General Dinn would look like someone had slapped him with a cold fish. And during our drills, that little dog hared off onto the field and panicked six horses." Rej shook his head. "But what can the General do? There's no law that says they can't stalk him."

This continued into the next day. Every time I saw Dinn, he was being shadowed by the four Haudites, their white jackets growing increasingly dusty as they scribbled together on a single canvas. Once I tried to take a look at their work, but they jerked it away, yammering something about "Don't crowd our Muses!" and blocking their "creative aura". Around evening of the next day, Dinn simply went into his room and locked the door. Dejected, the Sham Quartet sat down in the courtyard under his window and continued to scribble.

They were still there at seven when Chaz and I returned from visiting the hospital, where several of Dinn's men were still wounded from the fighting with Guisu. After I dismounted, said goodnight, and Chaz led the horses away, I stared at the four of them. "Did...Dinn ever give you his permission to do this?"

"Art recognizes no authority," the red-haired boy muttered, ink splattering his nose as his pen darted along the bottom edge of the canvas.

"Just a minute...just a minute..." Scheryn murmured, making what looked like dozens of rapid pinpricks with her pen. "There!" She leaned back. "Oh, I think that looks good. What do you think, Whyliamh?"

The black-haired man's pen made one mighty swoop down the middle of the canvas. "Fine work, fine work. I am especially fond of Giulyah's floral design there."

"Thank you," said the red-haired girl. "Myself, I like Baubb's cross-hatching right over there."

They all smiled and nodded at their canvas.

"We should let our subject see it," Scheryn said brightly.

"But it's only the preliminary sketch," said Giulyah. "Do you want to spoil it for him?"

Scheryn put her nose in the air. "I think he should be involved in the creative process."

Sham, curled up in Scheryn's lap, barked. "That decides it," said Baubb, as he reached for a satchel at his side and withdrew a roll of wax paper. In a few moments, the four of them had succeeded in wrapping their canvas, and, in another moment, they were presenting it to me.

"You show it to him," Scheryn said, as one conferring a great honor, "and get his opinion of it."

Bemused, I took the canvas and headed into the house, itching all the while to look at it. I went upstairs to the second story and down the hall to Dinn's room. The door was still shut and, I presumed, locked. But I came up short when I heard low voices coming from inside.

They were too indistinct for me to make out what they were saying, and something about them made me think I probably shouldn't be hearing this. So naturally I tried to listen harder. Dinn's voice was recognizable, joined by another man's voice, deeper and unfamiliar.

I wondered if this were one of our spies. Well, if so, he was ultimately in the pay of my father. I straightened up out of my crouch, but even as I moved to knock on the door, the voices fell abruptly silent.

I knocked. I heard the sound of a chair scraping -Dinn rising from his desk- and footfalls before the door opened to reveal him. There was nothing furtive in his manner, but I noticed he was standing in such a way that I couldn't see beyond into his room.

"Who's there with you?" I asked, thinking (after I'd said it) that this could be a dangerous question.

Dinn glanced over his shoulder. After a moment, he said, "It's all right." He stepped aside to let me in and didn't close the door behind me.

The other man was instantly familiar, though I couldn't remember where I'd seen him. He was tall, solid and broad-shouldered, wearing a long beige traveling cloak. He had short black hair and a wide eyepatch across his left eye. He nodded to Dinn and, even as I entered, walked past us and down the hall to the manor's back door.

"Who was that? I've seen him before."

"That was Sir Georg Prime," Dinn said, bending over his desk a moment and making a quick note.

I glanced back down the hall again, but Sir Georg was gone. "Yes. I remember seeing him at court now. Why isn't he with the Prince?"

"The Prince is working hard to gain support for his new army...the Dawn Army." Dinn finished writing and straightened again. "Since so many still believe Sir Georg actually murdered the queen, his presence wouldn't enhance the Prince's reputation."

"Damn those Godwin lies," I said, almost as reflex. In Sable, pairing "damn" with either Godwin or Barows was now entrenched in everyone's vocabulary, though some damned the Prince just as freely for adding more battles to the crisis. "What is Sir Georg doing here?"

"He's been keeping an eye on General Guisu's movements." For a moment, Dinn was lost in thought as he stared at the map that hung on his wall, showing southern Falena and much of northwestern Armes. Then he turned back to me. "Did you want something?"

"I'm afraid I'm bringing bad news. Well...it might be bad news." I held out the wrapped canvas. "Your Haudite fans have finished their sketching and want you to see it before they, er, begin painting."

Dinn raised an eyebrow as he took the canvas and unwrapped it. He held the canvas in front of himself, his eyes going wide. I sidled around to his shoulder to see.

There was, indeed, a floral pattern of orchids and daisies rioting up the left side of the canvas. The bottom had been enthusiastically crosshatched, and the top was marked by a series of long strokes that made me think a tiger with ink-covered claws had savaged the canvas. As for the figure in the center...

"Your nose isn't that big," I said.

"My hair's not curly either," Dinn commented.

"And I don't think I've ever seen you wearing a toga."

"I have _never_ worn a toga," Dinn said forcefully.

"What's that...you're holding?"

"A severed head, I think."

"It looks a bit like Chaz. But I meant in your other hand."

"It's...uh..."

"I think it's called a lyre."

"It looks like a torture devise."

"It's actually a musical instrument."

We stared for another long moment. Dinn had his lips pressed together, as if forcing himself not to scream.

Finally, I had to ask. "Why do you suppose they drew a flock of pigeons coming out of your left ear?"

Dinn swallowed, staring at his likeness. Then he lifted his chin and looked down at me. "My lady, forgive me. I didn't realize you were so cold."

I was utterly taken aback. "What?"

He was walking across the room, still holding the canvas. "The nights here are terrible. I can't allow you to be uncomfortable. Just a moment."

"Dinn -what are you..._Oh_, you know, now that you mention it, it is rather chilly."

"Then you can help," Dinn said brightly, propping the canvas in the fireplace and reaching for his tinderbox.

Twenty minutes later, I put on my most contrite face to inform the Haudites that their sketch had unfortunately been dropped in Dinn's fireplace and was nothing more than a pile of ash. Their eyes widened as they stared at each other.

Then Baubb leapt into the air and whooped, exclaiming that their sketch had been consecrated in a fiery baptism. "Tomorrow, it shall arise anew as an even greater work of art!"

"We shall title it," Whyliamh said, "'The Phoenix'!"

I decided not to relay this news to Dinn just yet and let him spend at least one night with an easy mind.

However, the next morning, when I warning him that the Quartet's enthusiasm had not been subdued, Rej galloped into the courtyard with unwelcome tidings. For the first time in nearly three years, bandits had begun raiding the in the Sable mountains. This would have to stopped immediately.

So much for Dinn's peace of mind.


	50. Chapter 50

50

Aside from being a nuisance and a danger to our merchants, the bandits' presence was an insult to Sable itself. Worse still, they proved impossible to catch, hiding in our surrounding mountains. Dinn had been right about the roads; while the passages between were in good condition, the up-mountain roads themselves were in impossible disrepair. Dinn couldn't get any horses up them, and even men on foot needed hours to make headway. The bandits, moving in much smaller groups, had almost no difficulty raiding Dinn's search parties, leaving many wounded. There had been no deaths yet, but that didn't seem like much consolation.

For a short time, Sable could hardly care less about Armes and the civil war. Armes was quiet for the time being. Stories of the constant clashes between the Prince and the Godwins arrived steadily on our doorstep. Hatred Fortress was destroyed. Lordlake was lush and verdant again. The Prince had made his headquarters in some mysterious ruins in Ceras Lake that they were calling Dawn Castle. Lord DeBeers of Lelcar fled for his life. The Queen's Knights razed his city, and it joined the Dawn Army. Despite an official envoy with a letter written in Lucretia Merces' own hand requesting soldiers, Sable firmly maintained its neutral stance.

Which is why we were somewhat surprised the evening Boz Wilde rode under our front gates, asking to speak to Dinn, or Father, or me, or whomever was "handy". We instantly assumed there had been a disaster and that Boz was bringing the bad news.

"No, no, nothin' like that!" Boz expostulated, after thanking a maid for his tankard of beer. "I'm here on behalf of the Prince, to try to talk some sense into you guys."

We were seated at dinner. Mother and I exchanged glances, but Father, Grand and Dinn were all business.

Father steepled his hands, looking down at them (a delaying tactic?). "The Prince wants us to join the Dawn Army."

"Puttin' it subtly...yeah."

Father sighed and shook his head. "Privately, I sympathize with the Prince's cause. But I cannot commit Sable's garrison to war on his behalf."

Boz was taken aback. "What? But you've as good as said you want to help -so why don't you? If you think it's right, you should do it!"

Father smiled half-heartedly. "It's not that simple."

"Not that _simple_?" Boz swung around in his chair. "Come on, Dinn, back me up! You were there in Barows' manor. You know what the Prince is up against. You can't tell me _you_ don't want to help!"

Dinn put down his wine glass (definitely a delaying tactic). "Lord Wilde, the problem is that most of Sable does not support the Prince's cause. Nor the Godwins'," he added, seeing Boz's look of outrage.

Boz stared at each of us in turn. "What? Come on, this is Sable! You're all about fightin'! Warriors are the local cash crop! What's holding you back?"

"Oh, nothing much," I not-quite-snapped. I could see Father about to step in with another calm reply, and it was bothering me. "Only the fact that Armes slipped past us a few months ago, Barows betrayed us, and we have bandits infesting the mountains."

Father gave me a pointed "Be quiet" look. Boz, however, didn't seem to find anything amiss in my lack of manners. "Bandits? What's this?"

Father glanced at Dinn before speaking. "Never mind, Lord Wilde. It is not germane. While we appreciate your faith in our garrison, please relay to His Highness that we will not be entangling ourselves-"

"-in Lady Merces' puppet strings," Grand finished.

Father's face tensed, but before he could reprimand Grand, Boz had ridden right over them both. "You don't like Lucretia? She doesn't seem bad at all to me. We're winnin' battles, aren't we? You goin' to ask for more outta a strategist?"

Grand eyed Boz narrowly. "I'm not convinced she's only the strategist. Isn't she the effective leader of the Dawn Army?"

Boz rose from his seat. "Like hell! Of course the Prince is our leader, he's the one who leads the battles, looks for recruits-"

"-and respects Sable's neutral status," Dinn interposed peaceably. "If Lucretia were only an opportunist, she would be listing Sable as an opponent."

Grand raised an eyebrow, but didn't argue the point.

Boz sat back down and gulped down a few slices of pork. "So, okay, you're not joinin'. Fair enough. What's this about bandits now?"

Like magic, we all looked tired. We really didn't like talking about it, but eventually Boz got the full story.

"Damn," he said feelingly, pointing his fork at Dinn. "Those are some tough bandits to be messin' with _you_."

"They're also smart," Mother said. "And very skilled in guerrilla warfare."

"I think we'll have them soon though," Dinn said. "They can't support themselves in the mountains. There's just not enough food. Sooner or later, they'll have to make another raid down-mountain."

Boz grinned broadly. "Well, I don't wanna miss that."

Father looked up, startled. "What? Surely the Prince can't spare you."

Boz waved that aside. "He'd want me to help, trust me."

Seeing Father's dubiousness, Dinn nodded. "Lord Wilde's assistance may even win more approval for the Prince here."

The next morning, Dinn and Boz had left before I was awake. They didn't return until noon. I was with Chaz as they marched into the courtyard. I glanced briefly at them, but Chaz tensed, then said a word I had never heard before.

"Chaz?" I rounded on him, amazed at his unseemliness.

"Forgive me, my lady," Chaz said, not contrite. His face was grim. "The raid hasn't gone well. Something has happened."

I looked from him to the soldiers. I couldn't see anything wrong with them. "How can you tell?"

Just then, Grand joined us on the balcony. His eyes narrowed as he took in the soldiers, then he said that same word Chaz had employed (I'm not even sure how to spell it). "What's happened to them?" He charged past us towards the stairs.

I stared at them again. They just looked like disciplined soldiers to me. I suppose it takes a trained eye.

"I can't believe it-" Boz was saying when I caught up to him, Grand, Father and Dinn.

Dinn was shaking his head, his eyes bewildered. "I... _don't_ believe it. There must be some explanation."

I touched his arm. "What on earth has happened?"

Dinn and Boz exchanged swift glances. Dinn looked at me, then took a deep breath as he addressed Father. "My lord, we... We engaged the bandits at Ranro Mountain. Their leader-"

"_I'll_ say it," Boz broke in. "I wasn't afraid to say it there." He stared darkly at the ground for a moment. "Look, the bandit leader looks just like the Prince."

"What?" Father and I said at the same time.

"That's all there is to it," Boz said. "Their leader's like the Prince's -I dunno- twin or sumthin'. I lost my head when I saw him, just shouted 'Prince, what are you doin'?'" He grimaced. "Shoulda thought a moment, the Prince wouldn't be raiding with bandits."

"Nevertheless," Dinn said, "the soldiers heard him."

Father sighed and rubbed his forehead. "Sun above..."

"This won't help the Prince's cause in Sable," Grand said flatly.

I realized just then that I was still holding Dinn's upper arm. I released him, though I don't think even he had noticed.

"What do you make of it?" I asked him as we all returned to the house.

Dinn took a moment before answering. "I believe in the Prince's integrity. So does Boz, and your father seems to." He paused half a beat.

"You know him better than I do," I said noncommittally.

"Trust me. The Prince is not a bandit. He is his father's son." I thought back to Commander Ferid, how much I had admired him, all the stories of his bravery and nobility. Dinn was continuing. "Anyway, it matters little what we think. Most of Sable only knows the Prince through rumors."

"You don't think we'll be able to join the Prince's side?"

"I'm worried that the people will start clamoring for us to fight against him."

I nearly tripped on a stair tread. "Sable will never back the Godwins!"

"No," Dinn said. "We'd be a small, isolated group surrounded by three enemies." He shook his head and put his hand on his doorknob. Just then, we both noticed a package that had been propped against his door.

Dinn frowned, bent, lifted it. His name was written on it. He unwrapped it.

The Sham Quartet had struck again. _The Phoenix_ had been reinterpreted as an oil painting. Dinn was painted sitting astride Spook, the standard of Sable unfurling in his left hand, an eagle on his right shoulder. But it seemed Sham the dog had been allowed to dip his paws into the palette, because the image was covered with multicolored pawprints. To finish it off, the Sham Quartet had connected the pawprints with rows of yellow stars.

Dinn stared hopelessly at me. I shook my head. "I don't see how we could feasibly drop it in the fire again."

"It would seem suspicious," Dinn said bleakly.

"However," I said, "we did hang in the hallway here."

Dinn raised an eyebrow. "We...did?"

"Prominently. We were very proud of it, you see. Which is why it was such a shame when..."

"Yes?" Dinn asked eagerly.

"You were showing me your sword swings and-"

"Ah. Yes. Yes, it was a shame. Allow me." Dinn placed the canvas on top of a bookshelf, leaning it against the wall. He drew his nodachi. "Now, then, what sword swing did you want to see?"

"Oh, you decide. I don't want to bridle your creative impulses."

"My lady is very considerate," Dinn said, regarding the canvas with a dangerous gleam in his eyes.

Swoop -SLAM- r-i-i-i-i-i-pppp! Thud.

Dinn straightened. He smiled broadly as he sheathed his sword, then looked over the railing to the house's lower level. "Do I smell lunch cooking?"


	51. Chapter 51

51

The Prince was here in barely a week.

Myself, I would have come in secret, but the Prince walked boldly into Sable, despite the fact that he was greeted with much less than warmth. Despite the fact that he was probably walking into a trap set by the bandits. During the week, we had thought of no other reason why their leader would impersonate the Prince.

I was visiting the hospital when the Prince came, so the first news I got was a sudden tension in the streets and a crowd ranged outside the manor. Madelon's husband, Rhone, was there, and he told me the Prince and a small retinue had arrived. "I was with the General at the west checkpoint when he showed up. The guards gave him plenty grief, until Sir Dinn told them to stand down. He seems to like the Prince." He grimaced. "I don't know. None of the nobility have given us reason to trust them lately."

"The pack of lying thieves," said a man nearby. "I hope the civil war kills them all."

Not waiting for another word, Chaz grabbed my elbow and propelled me inside the manor.

"I don't think they were about to riot."

Chaz grimaced.

Mother was hovering in a small chamber off Father's receiving room. "What's going on?" I whispered, straining to hear what they were saying. There's a short hallway between the rooms, so I couldn't distinguish any voices.

Mother was rubbing her hands together, a bit nervously. The last royal we'd had in our house was Commander Ferid, during the war eight years ago. "Well, I'd say your father's apprising them of the situation."

"Did you see the Prince?"

Mother looked irritated. "Sun above, Salisha, why does it matter? You've seen the Prince before."

I hadn't seen the Prince since his parents had been killed. I wondered if he'd look different.

He did.

At court, people (behind his back) often commented on how much the Prince resembled Queen Arshtat. He had her delicate skin, blue eyes, and silvery hair, which he then wore in a braid. He was pretty, there was just no escaping it. And while he seemed skilled enough with his triple-rod, he always projected the air of being a court adornment, an attractive, powerless prince. He rarely spoke at court, though Donna told me he had been spirited and talkative enough three years ago when he'd summered in Estrise.

The Prince was frowning as he came out of Father's study, speaking with Dinn, one hand toying absently with his rod. At fifteen, he was taller than I remembered, a bit broader in the shoulders. His face still looked childishly soft, which made the grimness in his eyes all the more startling.

Well, what did I expect? A glass of wine and a flourished lace fan?

His entourage was quite small. I recognized his bodyguard, Lady Lyon, from seeing her with the Prince at court. Sir Kyle of Lelcar I only registered on my second glance. He was speaking to Lady Sialeeds, who looked angrier than the Prince, her arms folded against her stomach, her gaze moving restlessly from object to object. A younger woman walked behind her; she had short dark hair, a headband set with a blue stone, and carried a whip, and to this day I don't know who she is. Bringing up the rear was a tall woman in a narrow black dress and a voluminous black cape, crisscrossed by gold embroidery. Her dress exposed most of her pale stomach and chest, at odds with the hood that hid her eyes.

Mother was smoothness personified. "Welcome to Sable, Your Highness. Forgive me for not greeting you earlier."

The Prince glanced up sharply. In his large eyes, I could clearly see the transitions from surprise, to trying to remember my mother's name, to politeness. "Thank you, Lady Melissa."

Mother loosely clasped her hands. "I only wish your welcome had been more, ah..."

The Prince held up his hand. "It's not important."

Mother bowed her head deferentially. (I just stared at her. It's always strange watching your own parent play a part.) "Please, allow me to show you to your rooms."

"That would be wonderful," Lady Sialeeds spoke up. "I feel like I've walked my feet to stubs, I need to lie down." Sir Kyle gave her a lazy smile, to which she rolled her eyes.

Abruptly, the lady in black turned and walked into our small garden, staring moodily down at the pool.

"Don't mind that one," Lady Sialeeds said brusquely. "She always takes care of herself."

I glanced again at the garden, but the woman had vanished.

Mother took this in stride, and we led them upstairs. It was a good thing they hadn't come any earlier, or their rooms wouldn't have been ready. I could only imagine the chaos our kitchens had to be in, trying to create a feast for our guests.

Lady Sialeeds immediately retired to her room, while the Prince and the Queen's Knights continued to hash out tomorrow's prospects with Dinn. The whip-girl stood irresolute for a few minutes, glanced several times out the window, then trotted downstairs. I later saw her heading towards the city's walls, and she did not return for supper.

Our meal was rather subdued. Tasty -no complaints to give the cook- but there was very little talking. I could tell that Grand was busy assessing the Prince, from the way he held himself to the way he ate his curried rice. Father and Mother were both quiet, probably waiting for cues from the Prince. Dinn seemed preoccupied, and (as you can tell) I was busy watching everyone else. Lady Sialeeds brought up the subject of Godwin, and she and Boz spent a good quarter hour verbally flaying him. (I didn't join in; when angry, Lady Sialeeds dominated any conversation, and it took someone with Boz's thick hide to compete with her.) The two bodyguards stood at silent attention. No sign of the black-hood creature.

It was probably the presence of so many strangers in the house that made me unable to go to sleep at first. We just don't get a lot of visitors down here, especially ones with rank sufficient to stay in our house. That night, I tried to make myself sleepy by reading, but it didn't work, so I went downstairs to see if Father was still up. He was, sitting at his desk with a wide book propped open, staring thoughtfully out the window. I glanced down at the page. It was something about the first head of state of the Island Nations Federation.

"What do you think?" I asked.

He jumped, then glanced at me.

"Do you think the bandits will try to trap the Prince tomorrow?"

Father closed his book. "It's possible. Dinn and Lord Boz will certainly do everything in their power to prevent it."

I couldn't help smiling. "Bad news for the bandits, then."

"With all luck," Father continued, "the Prince will flush the bandits out, capture them, and restore his good name in Sable."

"And Sable will be in a position to join the Dawn Army?"

Father sighed. "A leading question, Salisha. When negotiating, use them lightly."

"I'm not negotiating, I'm wheedling out information."

"Yes. It's all too apparent." He neatly deflected my question by presenting me with a book, a smaller black-bound one. Stamped across its cover were the words _Fields of Flames_. "You remember that Grassland war, about twenty, thirty years ago?" Father was saying, as though I'd experienced it firsthand and not from passages in books.

"Something about a True Rune, yes."

"This is an account by one of the Harmonians who fought in it, a General Le Buque. I found it quite interesting and thought you might like to read it."

So I went back to my room quite pleased, the presence of strangers almost forgotten. It was a short-lived illusion. I cut across the outside balcony on the way to my room and so was in place to hear one last snatch of conversation before I went to bed.

"So, Zerase, I was talking to Genoh before we left-"

"It is of no account to me if you waste your time conversing with turtles."

"-and he was saying you're really quite old."

There was a brief silence that was so irritable you could hear it.

"Yes, Queen's Knight? What of it?"

"I'm just saying there's no way you could be that old, you with such incredible- ah!- no-AAAGH!"

A moment later, I saw Kyle of Lelcar trudging up the stairs, holding his hand to his face, blood seeping between his fingers. He gave me one preoccupied look before crossing into the guest wing. He paused in front of Lady Sialeed's door, seemed to think better of it, then went into his own room.


	52. Chapter 52

52

"Boz, you are a nincompoop, and a blind one at that. He doesn't look anything like the Prince."

"Okay, Salisha, nunna that cra- ah...bunk. You saw the kid. He's the Prince's double."

"Sure, if the Prince had brown hair, yellow eyes and a perpetually snarky expression."

"Stop bein' so damn smug. Look, even Dinn was taken in. You goin' to say your precious General's a nincompoop?"

"He...must have had dust in his eyes."

"He did _not_."

"Or, no, wait, he didn't want to make _you_ look bad."

Boz, examining a short hanger he'd appropriated from our armory, jabbed its hilt at me. "You wait until you've seen the kid in the wig, okay? You'll be fooled too."

In all honesty, the bandit leader did bear an odd resemblance to the Prince, coloration and expression aside. Earlier that evening, he and several of his bandits had been sneaked into Sable. Father had immediately convened with them and the royals. I'd asked to join in, even just observe, but Father had refused to let me. Apparently the situation was too "delicate". Shocked and angry, I'd waited until their meeting was over to vent my emotions on the first available target. It being good-natured Boz, I was having difficulty staying angry, though a constant frustration steamed just under the surface. Father had closeted himself with Dinn, the Prince, the bandit and Lady Sialeeds, so I had no chance of getting to him and demanding explanations. When I asked what the five of them were up to, Boz just said that there was some plan. "Sialeeds came up with it, something to clear the Prince's name, I think."

I folded my arms. "It'll take something spectacular."

Boz shot me a look. "You're in a grand snit. Oh well." He clapped me on the shoulder, nearly knocking me over. "Everythin's gonna be fine. I tell ya, I'm feelin' good about this."

My throbbing shoulder did nothing to soothe my mood. Father and the others emerged from his study in less than an hour. Several of Dinn's men were escorting the bandits to lower rooms, where (I presumed) they were being hidden. I waited just long enough for the royals to walk into their own apartments before I rounded on Father. "Well?"

Father and Dinn looked up from their conversation. Though I was probably interrupting an important exchange, Dinn fell respectfully silent. But Father tightened the corners of his mouth in a just-discernible grimace. "Yes, Salisha?" He said both words carefully.

I frowned up at him. "I'm sorry to interrupt you, Father. But you could've saved time by allowing me to observe." I couldn't maintain the haughty tone, my voice climbing towards petulance. "Why _didn't_ you? Why did you leave me out?"

"I already told you," Father said, also dropping the frostiness. "The situation was precarious enough, but with the royals present... I didn't want to risk any false moves."

"I would've kept quiet!"

Father tried to smile. "These goings-on would tempt anyone to shout."

"Exactly! You can't tell me Lady Sialeeds kept a civil tongue."

"Lady Sialeeds is royalty," Father said simply. "She has the authority to speak her mind."

"But- I still could have-" I glanced at Dinn.

He bowed -"My lord, Lady Salisha,"- and walked away.

I wanted to call after him "That was a supplicating glance, not a dismissive one!" but I still had Father to deal with.

However, I had run my gallop to a walk. "Father...I..."

Father put his hands on my shoulders. "You'll notice I had the bandits smuggled in when Grand wouldn't be around to see them. I didn't want him at this meeting either. It's not just you."

I stared at him, trying to find anything reassuring in his words. "You don't value Grand's judgment. You're always disagreeing with him. So that means you don't-"

"I value your judgment," Father said quickly. "You're just... callow. I'd like you to have more experience before you handle politics of this caliber."

I looked at his chin, not his eyes. "Sun knows I'll get it, the longer this war goes on."

"Yes," Father said bleakly. "Yes, this war...Well, we can pray it will be over soon." But his expression was still grim as he moved to return to his study.

"Father -what's the plan? For restoring the Prince's good name?"

Father paused, hand on the knob. "Ah...well, the Prince and Lady Sialeeds are still hammering it out. They think they'll be ready to put it in effect tomorrow."

"May I-" I struggled to keep my tone even, "-observe?"

Father grimaced again. "No -I -No," he said more firmly. Obviously I was not keeping my face expressionless. "It will be taking place in a large crowd, and too much could go wrong. You would be in danger."

"Surely the Prince will be there. You can't say he's less important than I am!"

Father shook his head. "You can't defend yourself."

"But I suppose _you'll_ be there?"

Father's frostiness was back. "I will not. I trust Dinn to act accordingly."

Oh. So Dinn was involved, was he? Well then.

Dinn was in his room, sitting on his bed, sewing up a rip in one of his tunics. He stood when I entered, putting the tunic to one side. "My lady?"

I was too upset for a friendly preamble. "What is Lady Sialeeds' plan?"

Dinn looked startled. "Well, we-"

I slumped and sighed heavily. "I'm sorry."

Dinn was miles out to sea. "...Sorry, my lady?"

"For being so rude. I-" No wonder Father hadn't wanted me there, I couldn't even conduct a civil conversation. With an effort, I collected myself. "What did the bandit leader say? Why was he impersonating the Prince?"

Dinn seemed relieved to be back on solid ground. "It's a bit of a story. Roy -the leader- was hired by the Barows family."

I was surprised for just a second. "Well, that clears up the motive. They wanted revenge on the Prince for ruining their good name." I picked up the tunic and examined the rip. "What else?"

"It appears their liaison has been none other than Lord Euram." Dinn paused. "A foolish young man. He would have done better to work through contacts. Still, it makes our job easier. Lady Sialeeds wants to unmask him publicly. He and Roy have been planning to stage a heroic 'capture', and Lady Sialeeds is sure it will happen right at Sable's gates."

I looked up expectantly.

"That's all I know so far," Dinn said. "She says she needs to work out the details. Apparently I'm going to have a role in it." He looked vaguely troubled for a moment.

I examined his needlework. Really, his stitches were almost as good as mine. "Did your mother teach you?'

Dinn raised his eyebrow at my abrupt change of topic, then looked amused. "She did. She says that ever since I was crawling, I was ripping holes in my clothes. When I was eight, she couldn't take it anymore, so she taught me how to mend them myself."

"Being a soldier can't be good for your clothes," I said vaguely. "Well...good luck tomorrow. You'll tell me about it? Father doesn't want me nearby when important things are happening."

"He doesn't want you in danger."

"Mm," was the best answer I had. I knew that, of course. Why did I have a bodyguard? Why had I been sent north to the capital during the war eight years ago? Why was I so used to the presence of soldiers? My father hated battle, always wanted to keep me away from the bloodshed, but with Godwin in the north and Armes in the south, it seemed so pointless. And I felt so self-pitying.

I had a sudden urge to be outside, moving fast, despite the late hour. "Come for a ride with me?"

I wasn't in the mood to admire how quickly Dinn adjusted to my erratic conversation. "I'm afraid not, my lady. As soon as I finish with that-" he nodded at the tunic, "-I need to start preparing for deployment."

I was confused and looked it.

"Your father will be joining the Prince's cause at the first opportunity. I want the men ready to ride as soon as possible."

I was about to ask if he'd be going with them, but I already knew the answer and didn't want to hear it. "Of course, I see. I suppose it wouldn't be wise to go riding at night right now anyway." I sighed. "You get to work on that. I'll finish this."

"My lady-"

"Honestly, Dinn, you're the General, you have more important things to do than mending."

"My lady, I-"

"Your lady insists. And if you protest further, she will embroider a solid three inches of daisies around the hem."

Dinn opened his mouth, hesitated, then closed it. "Forgive me, my lady. You must not resort to that. My men would riot." He paused. "They'd all want daisies too.'

When Mother came in to say goodnight, she found me sitting on _my _bed, bent over Dinn's tunic. He hadn't been joking. He really had a genius for destroying good cloth.

"Salisha -are you _mending_ to pass the time?"

I glanced around my room, at_ Fields of Flames_ lying pages-down on my cover. "I need something to do with my hands."

"Restless, huh?" She stroked my hair. "It's hard to relax these days."

"This helps," I said.

"That's good." She kissed the top of my head. "Good night." She turned and went out the door...

...and came back three minutes later with a large basket full of ripped clothing. "Here," she said, setting it with a huff on my bed. "This should do you a lot of good." Not even registering my incredulous look, she smiled sleepily. "Sweet dreams." And she left again, shutting the door softly behind her.

Despite my dismay, I didn't stop with Dinn's tunic. I was restless, worried, especially about Dinn. Three hours and eleven items of clothing passed before I felt ready to sleep, and even then I was awake too soon before dawn.


	53. Chapter 53

53

Lady Sialeeds was crafty. I never explicitly heard a rumor that something would happen at the front gates the next day, but all morning I saw people drift as they passed by, eyeing them narrowly. Clearly she'd let just the right words slip.

Father also was tense, glancing sidelong at the gates from time to time. Dinn, after a quick breakfast, was nowhere to be found. I wondered if he were hiding from Lady Sialeeds and her plan (probably not). Maybe he too was nervous, but didn't want anyone else to see it.

I?

I was sewing bandages that day, dead sick of my needle, but I dragged all the cloths and baskets out to the front balcony. This gave me a good view of the wall above the gates, but not the gates themselves. I kept an eye out all morning, watching the sentries pacing rhythmically east to west, jabbing myself so often I felt I'd need the bandages before the soldiers did.

At noon, I went down to lunch. Dinn was back, looking alert and uncomfortable. I wanted to question him, but he was at the other end of the table.

That afternoon, I did a terrible thing.

You'll have seen it coming. You'll say, "That's not so bad. What else could you do? Come on, it's not murder."

If I ever commit a murder, I think I'll be calmer if only for this experience.

I rubbed my forehead. "My head is pounding." (It was, it was.) "I think I should go lie down." (Undoubtedly I should have.)

Chaz picked up my baskets of bandages. "Shall I take my leave of you then, my lady?"

Shall? No, let's keep ethics out of this. "Why don't you?"

I watched Chaz go. I went into my room. Didn't lie down. Changed into my most uninteresting set of clothes.

Went outside. Slipped into the crowd around the gate. Walked over to a horse that had been tethered nearby and pretended to be checking her equipment. Tried to ignore the nervous sweatdrops that were rolling in fleets down my back.

For all that I was surrounded by townspeople who were happy to ignore me, I felt like I was standing naked in a shaft of lamplight. Not to my surprise, a lot of people seemed to find reasons to loiter by the gates today. I scanned the crowds, looking for anything out of the ordinary. I found it soon enough.

Even dressed as a -well, not commoner, but certainly not as a princess- Lady Sialeeds projected an air of authority. She could no more hide it than she could hide her walk. Lady Lyon was at her side, seemed unable to relax out of her warrior posture. Dinn they hadn't forced to dress up, and he walked at Lady Sialeeds' other side, nervously clasping and unclasping his hands behind his back. I turned quickly away as they passed, hiding my face. Even so, I could hear Dinn clearly.

"I am at your service, my lady, but... I apologize in advance, I can't assure you that I will succeed in... well..."

"Be brave, Sir Dinn," Lady Sialeeds said breezily.

"In all honesty," came (what I assume was) Lady Lyon's voice, "I agree with the General."

When I lost them in the crowd, I sidled away from the horse to follow them, my eyes riveted on Dinn's blue tunic. (Once, he looked over his shoulder a bit quizzically. I really need to watch that.) The three of them stopped just outside the gates, waiting as people passed them into Sable. For a brief moment, they looked at each other, as if drawing their resolve. Then Sialeeds and Lyons threw their heads back and yowled "HELP! He-e-e-elp!"

This didn't go unnoticed. People instantly turned to look, just as a new figure approached the threesome, causing the crowd to back quickly away. It was the Prince, tossing his rod from hand to hand. Unless, of course, it was that bandit.

"Help!" Lady Sialeeds squealed, rolling her eyes dramatically.

"Eeeek!" Lady Lyon squeaked, hunching over and cowering.

"Um," said Dinn. He made a vague warding motion at the Prince. "Oh no."

"That horrible Prince is going to kill us!" Lady Sialeeds cried, throwing one hand up theatrically. "Who can save us?"

"Fear not!" a man's voice trilled from high above. I, and the crowd, looked up.

Poised atop Sable's gate, half-cape flowing in the wind, the little white rosebuds on his silk stocking bright in the sunlight, was-

"'Tis I! Euram, scion of the noble house of Barows, here to save you all from the vile grasp of the debased Prince! Now, stand down, thou royal wretch, while I save the day!" With a brilliant blue flourish of his cape, he braced himself to spring from the wall. Then his foot must have slipped because he let out an odd bleating sound and fell backwards.

I wasn't in any position to see what happened on the other side of the wall, but in a moment, he was back, hair slightly disheveled and cape askew. He cleared his throat. "Yes! No more shall Sabre's -Sable's fair bosom be beleaguered by bandits! Sable cried out for protection, and I, Euram Barows, have answered her plea! Like a bridegroom to the defense of his- AWK!" Again, he tumbled out of sight.

In a moment or so, the crowd under the gate parted to admit the heir of Barows, limping slightly but with his rapier drawn. "Like a -ow- bridegroom to the defense of his timid damsel, I shall liberate the- the- well, have at you, foul Prince!" He threw back his shoulders, angling his sword up. Off to the side, Dinn and the Ladies Sialeeds and Lyon watched with no little interest.

In a serious of fluidly continuous movements, the Prince swung his staff around, knocked Euram's sword from his hand, heeled Euram in the jaw and whacked the nobleman across the chest. As Euram skidded backwards onto his posterior, the Prince twirled the staff into the air and caught it one-handed. He didn't smirk or wink at the audience, but you can't hide a show-off.

Nor, apparently, can you keep one down. Euram hopped to his feet, face flushed with anger. "Roy! What the hell are you doing, you're supposed to let me beat you -why do you think I'm paying you all this potch to impersonate the Prince?" Euram commenced drumming his feet on the ground in a dusty solo of rage. "Beg for mercy! You're supposed to beg for mercy! A dishonored -hated -low-down -and reviled royal has-been! And then my family will-" Euram's stamps slowed abruptly as he blinked at the crowd through a haze of self-induced dust.

Dinn cleared his throat -whether it was genuine or simply for effect, I couldn't tell. "I admire your transparency, Lord Euram. What's this about 'begging for mercy'?"

Euram swallowed, still staring at the Prince. "Mercy," he said faintly. "Ah... what a noble virtue, what a...magnanimous inclination."

Dinn turned towards Sable's gates as a new voice -a boy's voice- rang out. "Prithee and alack the day! What joy hast thou, my pint-pate Euram?"

Euram half fell over as he wheeled around. Sadly, I could no longer see his face, but the echoes of his squeal bounced loudly across the afternoon. "R-R-Roy! You-"

The Prince's twin stopped under the gate, putting both hands on his hips and rocking back on his heels. "Whadja think, Euram? Have I got the toff-speak down? I can keep going ifya want. Verily, I wot that yonder Euram is a fish-faced poltroon that shalt anon hath no-"

Euram emitted a loud, wordless gurgle.

"-standing in, well, anyone's company. Because, really, he hired me for this bum job, and doesn't even have the brains to follow through."

Euram had been squirming himself away from the bandit Roy. As he glanced over one hunched shoulder, he was met by the sight of a beefy cobbler. He'd apparently been making a delivery, because he was smacking the sole of a dainty baby's bootie against his palm in a meaningful way. Just past the cobbler was a dumpy woman with a very large broom.

I still regret that two fat men stepped in front of me just then. I heard a high-pitched caterwauling -a thud- a cloud of dust went up where Euram was supposed to be- something made of pottery was shattered (I suppose it wasn't Euram's head)- and then one of the fat guys was thrust against me as Euram made a run for it. I was all but flattened, but at least he protected me from the stampede of angry civilians that went after Euram.

"Oof," said Fatty. "Sorry 'bout that." Balling his hands into fists, he went puffing after the swarm.

Not everyone had followed. Indeed, there were quite a lot of people just watching, some of them laughing, others struggling to feel concern for Euram (maybe). I ducked into this crowd before anyone could recognize me.

And bumped right into Grand.


	54. Chapter 54

54

My eyes widened as I looked up. Half-formed thoughts floundered their way through my guilt -_You can't order me around - wasn't in any danger - what are _you_ doing here anyway?_ I tried to set my jaw and look firmly up. Maybe it worked. Grand smiled and put his arm around my shoulders, leading me away from the crowd.

"I'm not the one who told you not to watch."

My shoulders relaxed with relief.

"Though I would have liked to see the milksop get more sense knocked into him."

"I think the townsfolk are seeing to that. I suppose..." I frowned. "I suppose if he dies, that will be grounds for Lord Barows to strike against us again?" Belatedly, I was a little disturbed by my own callousness.

"Of course," Grand said. "Solis is responsible for his people, and the people of Sable slaughtering the Barows heir would certainly be enough to spark a war. But Salum doesn't have the means to bother us, so there's no problem."

I've never wondered where my callousness comes from.

"Unless," Mother said, "your father finds out you were here."

Grand and I whirled. Mother smiled. I spluttered. "You-You-"

She shook her head. "Your father never forbade _me_ to come."

Grand muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, "I want to see him try."

I swallowed. "Listen -Mother- _you_ came. You understand why I wanted to see. I -please don't-"

She raised her dark eyebrows. "Please keep a secret from your father? Honestly, Salisha, do you think that's a good precedent for a trusting marriage?"

"It's...a good precedent for keeping me happy."

Mother crossed her arms. "So, you'll be happy if your father doesn't find out?"

I nodded.

"Happy, content and personable? Because you don't need me to tell you this, but you've been something of a thundercloud around here lately."

Biting the inside of my mouth in annoyance, I nodded.

"Smashing." She was all smiles again. "I will not tell your father you deliberately broke your word to him."

Grand chuckled dryly. "Treason."

"Actually," I couldn't help breaking in, "I never promised anything. He said I couldn't go and wa-"

"And in return," Mother rode smoothly over me, "you will work even harder for the defense of Sable." She totally ignored me as I flared up with protests. "Training the horses is not enough, Salisha. We have plenty of people we can spare to do that. _You _need to concentrate more on helping the people. You're the lord's daughter, you can't expect the people of Sable to trust you if you don't lead them. Encourage them. So, from tomorrow onward, you are coming with me to help work in the hospital, you are sewing bandages with me every morning until lunch, you are riding to the outlying villages with me to rally for support there, you are making inspirational impromptu speeches to the soldiers and their families, and you are doing it while being happy, content and personable. Agreed?"

I curled my lip, my arms folded tight. "You make me sound like I've been doing nothing but lolling around and-"

"Are we agreed?"

I glanced at Grand. No help from him. I met my mother's eyes. Despite her deliberately-cloying cheeriness, her eyes were serious. I crossed my arms tighter and lifted my chin. "I am one with your wishes."

Giving me a smarmy smile, she patted my cheek. "Good. I wouldn't have wanted to tell Solis anyway. He forgets to eat when he's angry."

Nobody forgot to eat that evening. Lady Sialeeds called for wine, lots of it, and several exotic dishes that hadn't been made in Sable for years. We and our royal guests toasted Euram's bad fortune and speculated long into the night how far he'd run. Even well after sunset, villagers were still straggling in, let in by sympathetic guards. They were full of stories of Euram's great running speed, how they were only able to land a few punches on him.

Father spent much of the night thanking Lady Sialeeds and the Prince for publicly defaming Euram. He was hardly alone in his praise, though he had more reason than others to be grateful. If the people had turned against the Prince, Father would have been reluctant to ally himself with the Dawn Army. This would have left Sable isolated, caught between two enemies: the Godwins and the Prince. And Sable never forgot the threat of Armes in the south. Father capped off the evening by extending clemency to the bandits that had impersonated the Prince (and they immediately joined the Prince) and naming Dinn as Sable's official representative in the Dawn Army. I wasn't surprised, and of course I was proud of him. I tried not to think of the strain of displeasure that accompanied it. You think I'd be used to saying goodbye to him by now.


	55. Chapter 55

55

"So you're leaving now?"

Dinn looked sharply up from buckling his baldric. I don't think he'd heard me coming. I expected him to reply with a polite "My lady?", but he bypassed it entirely. "My men and I would hardly be a credit to Sable if we slowed the Prince's progress."

"Of course," I clipped, working to sound reasonable. "I was only mentioning it." I continued to stand in the doorway, hovering between the room and the hall outside. Dinn slung his saddlebags across his shoulders, clearly about to leave. There wasn't any point to going in. As he straightened and looked at me again, I stepped aside to let him pass.

He didn't.

Of course not, I belatedly realized. I was his lord's daughter. It wasn't his place to leave before I did.

I shook myself. It was a week since Euram Barows had been publicly humiliated, and I'd spent it, on Mother's orders, helping the townspeople, being cheerful, gracious and conciliatory. It was beginning to come instinctively. I'd even found that the less I knew a person, the easier it was to be gracious to him. And so I found that faking a smile for Dinn was almost too much.

"Well," I said in my briskest manner of public speaking, "we'd better go down to the gates." We went, he keeping pace with me, even as we dodged servants rushing around, helping the soldiers get ready. Once again, the streets were packed to see Dinn's men off, but the crowd was even larger this time, here to get a glimpse of the royals.

I was both surprised and relieved when the Prince didn't make a parting speech, though the people were cheering as though he were tossing money bags into the crowd. I found myself wishing that -if I had to say goodbye- it could have been like last time. There had been a group then too, but it had been so much smaller. It had been saying goodbye. This felt like a ceremony.

I tried not to dwell on it. Things just didn't necessarily happen the way I wanted them to. There would be plenty of time, plenty of things to say to Dinn when he returned. For good.

_I tried not to dwell on it._

Don't tell me, after how long we've known each other, you honestly believed that?

We certainly weren't left in the dark concerning the war. Father had long streams of couriers riding between Sable and Ceras Lake, even when there wasn't important news. Our first shock came at what some people blithely called "the Beaver Bake". Marscal Godwin ordered the burning of Beaver Village, now preaching about the "purity" of Falena. Unsurprisingly, the Beavers joined the Dawn Army. Rainwell fell to Godwin, surrendering to Bahram Luger and Dilbur Novum with hardly a sword stroke. The Prince, with the help of some powerful magic he'd acquired, was often able to "teleport" to Sable. (Depending on which rumors you believed, this was a side-effect of the Dawn Rune, he'd been bequeathed this power by a magician, or he'd been born with the ability but hiding it the whole time.) These sojourns were often just to pick up supplies, confer with Father and to personally rally the soldiers left defending Sable.

I did not see Dinn. I heard rumors that he was busy. He wrote, but not to me. Weekly, Father received reports from him, both on the army's progress and the state of the Sable combatants. I wrote _him_, though I didn't have much to say. I like to think that the letters brought him some pleasure, sitting in his room at Dawn Castle, reading about my exciting life as I smiled at soldiers, comforted war orphans, sewed bandages. Sewed _battalions_ of bandages.

Maybe it's just as well he didn't have time to reply.


	56. Chapter 56

56

I remember that when Arshtat was crowned queen, all Falena went on holiday to honor her. There were feasts and parties in every city and village, and many of the local lords demanded that all debts be forgiven. They even circulated some of the rarer trade goods among the citizens: Nagarean cloth, Kanakan wines, fruit from the elven forests of Na-Nal. I still have the gift Father gave me to celebrate the coronation, a small swan carved out of onyx.

To celebrate Lymsleia's coronation, several of the villagers in Sable made dummies to represent Marscal and Gizel Godwin and dragged them outside the city walls to be beaten and burnt. Father sent soldiers to contain the exhibition but didn't order that it be stopped.

Stories from the battlefront grew more alarming. The Twilight Rune blasted through the siege of Doraat. The Prince's advantage - having a powerful Rune - was lost. He and his representatives continued to scour the countryside for recruits and supplies. The Island Nations showed signs of supporting the Godwins. And someone sneaked into our house and stole the family tree.

The Raulbel family tree was _stolen_.

We couldn't believe it. It's only four generations long!

I came down from my room one morning to find the household in a minor uproar. As I walked into Father's study, it didn't take me long to see that the family tree was missing. It's always hung on his wall, a gracefully-drawn picture with my great-grandfather Adelam Raulbel's name at the top. When I was little, I used to like studying my own name, right at the very bottom, under the names of my three brothers who died in infancy: Mar, Dyas and Cahir. I'd vaguely wondered what they'd have been like if they'd lived, what I'd name my own kids someday. Vaguely. I never came to any profound conclusions. But that was how I immediately noticed its absence.

We couldn't reason it out. Family trees can be valuable; many families only have one copy, and it serves as a historical record. But those expensive family trees tend to go back, say, seven or eight generations. Ours is a measly four; Adelam was granted the Raulbel name and lands because he won some fierce battle in the Sable Mountains for Queen Olhazeta, ousting the former lord of Sable in the process. We can count off our family line in our heads. No one would pay money for it.

We searched the city, but nothing came up. There wasn't even a mysterious note reading, "If you ever want to see your family tree again, leave ten thousand potch at the split rock behind the hot springs of Yeshuna." Father commissioned the drafting of a new family chart, and I mentioned the episode in my next letter to Dinn.

A few days later, as I was brushing my hair, I heard a loud hubbub suddenly explode from the floor downstairs. I ran down, careful not to trip. When I reached the landing, the shock of what I saw did make me stumble.

"They're really quite intelligent," Oboro was saying, holding up a sleek beige mouse for Dinn's inspection. Off to one side, the Prince watched with the two lackadaisical assistants I remembered from Oboro's first visit. "I've trained Busby here to infiltrate ladies' boudoirs to search for spilled snuff or splashes of men's cologne so I can - Ah, Lady Salisha! Well-coordinated and charming. That's everyone then?" As I steadied myself, I saw that Mother, Father, and Grand were also present.

"You have my sincerest gratitude, Your Highness, Detective Oboro," Father said, clasping his hands and looking a bit flustered. "But I must admit, I never expected - how did you know we'd been robbed?"

"From the General, of course," Oboro said smoothly, giving Father an easy smile, "who heard it from your daughter. He mentioned it to me, and I wouldn't have foisted myself upon you like this, except that I think I know who perpetrated it." He glanced behind him. "As for His Highness' presence, well..."

We all stared at the Prince. After a moment, he shrugged and gave us a smile that was almost as easy as Oboro's.

About then, I noticed that Dinn had come over to steady my elbow, even though I wasn't wobbling anymore. I looked up at him just as he looked down at me, and maybe we would've said something except-

"You think you know who did this?" Grand repeated skeptically. "What, there's some infamous bandit with an eye for non-valuables?"

"Not precisely," Oboro replied. He thought a moment. "Regrettably. No, the man I am familiar with stylizes himself as 'Crow', purloiner of family trees. He's well-known for it, in the right circles. I last caught him carrying off the DeBeers family tree, but he escaped." Oboro's mouth tightened into a grimace, and he stroked the mouse on his palm with his thumb. "This remains a point of personal pride for me. I think this may be my chance to catch him for good."

"You're going to catch a thief in our house?" I asked, wondering if I sounded too eager.

"No, there's no longer any bait for him here," Oboro replied. "My plan is to lure him to Dawn Castle. But before that, I want to collect some information here, just to learn what new tricks this jackdaw's learned. If I'm very lucky, I may even get your family tree back."

Father smiled, neglecting to mention that the new tree was already complete, then, at Oboro's prompting, began relaying the story: how the study had been broken into, despite the guards seeing nothing.

With the attention focused on Oboro, I felt confident enough to look up at Dinn again, though I kept my voice down. "Thank you for coming." He didn't have to. He was no detective, and this wasn't a military matter.

Dinn seemed about to say, "You're welcome, my lady," but then he just smiled, which made the room suddenly feel pleasantly warm.

"So then," Grand said, on Dinn's other side, "how are the men holding up? What sort of fortifications does this Dawn Castle have?"

No matter how much you take after your grandfather, you are never allowed any justification for hauling back and walloping him one.

After Oboro's brief intrusion, there was a long period where I neither heard from nor saw Dinn. When Father received word that our family-tree thief had been caught, I eagerly asked for news of Dinn. Father shrugged, mind already busy with other matters. In a moment of foolishness, I asked Grand what he thought Dinn might be up to. This earned me a long lecture about military tactics. So I gathered Dinn was still too busy to write me.

Then the Queen's Campaign of Doraat occurred. Rumors came that the Prince had attempted to rescue Lymsleia from her husband's army, but had failed. I also heard, eventually, that during the night preceding the battle, the soldiers had been given leave to see their families.

Sable was far too far away from Ceras Lake, I told myself. Of course he couldn't come back for a visit of a few hours. I debated a long time whether to mention this in my next letter to him, ultimately choosing not to. I imagined him far away, bearing up under the burden of commanding Sable's forces, of being away from the people he knew... maybe myself. I tried to imitate that strength as I worked with Mother, trying to keep the people's spirits high, their many needs met.

Then something more than rumors came: confirmed news that Lady Sialeeds had betrayed the Prince and gone over to the Godwins.

"Stop spluttering as if it doesn't make sense," Grand told Father. "She might have helped us, but her enemy was Barows. You can't say she's at odds with the Godwins there."

"But - I thought-" Father looked out the window. "Doesn't she have any loyalty to Arshtat's memory, to-"

"Arshtat was falling in line with the Godwins, in her own way."

"_Damn!"_ I glanced at my father and grandfather, waiting for them to correct my language. Neither did. "How are we supposed to gain any ground? Lady Sialeeds leaving - this is going to discredit the Prince. Again!"

"And I'm still not easy about Armes," Grand continued, turning to Father. "You do know that Jidan Guisu and Maha Sparna attended Lymsleia's coronation? As did Barows. I see unwelcome bonds being reforged." He pushed off the wall of Father's study, which he'd been leaning against. "A vise. The Island Nations in the north. Armes in the south. And the Godwins on every side. We're going to need more than the Dawn Rune to win this."

"But where else can we go?" I asked Grand. Father was turned away from both of us, seemed lost in thought. "Nagarea?"

The look Grand threw me was almost contemptuous. "Remember your history. Falena has been self-sufficient for centuries. Turned up its nose at most alliances. Maybe now that it's fracturing from within, things are too late."

It seemed hopeless, but I knew from the way Grand and Father continued to plan, it couldn't be - or I hoped so. They didn't let me in on their battle stratagems, but it looked like we were preparing for a siege. The walls were being reinforced, food, equipment and seeds being stockpiled. The archers and battle mages trained on the wall three times a day.

_We don't give up in Sable, do we?_ I wrote to Dinn in a letter. _And we don't mind preparing for the worst. Grand says we'll fight off Godwin and Armes at once if we have to. _

Despite the anxiety that hovered ever-present in the back of my mind, I too was determined to present a fearless face to the people. We would not back down.

Then we received a letter from Lucretia Merces commanding us to evacuate.


	57. Chapter 57

57

"No."

I'd been saying that a lot over the past few days. I'd started out strong, a firm, clipped monosyllable. By now, the "no" was getting stretched thin, a little shaky and polysyllabic.

"I hate it!" I said before they could launch their logic at me again. "You're asking me to leave Sable like - like I'm any better than the soldiers. _They're_ staying."

Mother pursed her lips. "Not all of the soldiers. Most of them will be going to Dawn Castle."

"See? They're being useful. Didn't you want me to actually _do_ something in this war? So why are you making me-"

Grand glanced over his shoulder. "Chaz, get her on her horse."

Chaz came forward, all seriousness, so I held up a hand and talked fast. "Sable's in trouble. I should be here." I wish I could say otherwise but my voice rose to accusation. "_You're_ staying."

Father and Grand eyed each other a moment, then Father spoke. "I would prefer if your grandfather left with you-"

"Move on, Solis," Grand clipped.

"But as it is, we can't have you here. Lady Merces' plan requires that the city be totally empty."

"I could go with you and Grand to West Tower. You're still going to protect that border."

"Salisha, a garrison is no place for you," Grand broke in. "And I thought you were intelligent enough to realize that. Now, I trust you and Melissa are all packed? Then mount up."

I already stood at Kiani's head, my leggy mare lightly strapped with provisions, the rest being carried on my pack horse. "I - I still don't think I should leave this soon. Won't it demoralize the soldiers to see me running for it like this?"

Again, Grand rode right over Father's conciliatory words. "The soldiers will be damn relieved you're out of the way and danger. It's bad enough that Solis is staying."

Father pressed his lips together and took a deep breath, determinedly not looking at Grand. "It's good that you love Sable, but-"

"-but we need to go," Mother said. "We don't have all the time in the world to reach Lordlake."

"Don't think of it as running away and being useless," Father told me before I mounted. "The refugees will be looking to you and your mother for support."

That heartened me (and frightened me) as I mounted, the courtyard taking on the new perspective it always gets from a horse's back. There wouldn't be cheering as we left the city; most everyone in the courtyard was also leaving today. We hadn't been the first to go. That had been the merchants, eager to shift their wares and get out. Through the gates, I saw the dirt road had been scored by dozens and dozens of wagons, pocked with hoofprints. After the merchants, isolated families had begun to leave, and then the first large wave of refugees. The elders of Lordlake had extended their hospitality to the people of Sable. I wondered if the recently-revived city would we able to sustain all of us, but Father and Grand had agreed it was the best place for Mother and me to go.

Could I have gone to Dawn Castle? Maybe, if I'd been clever and said all the right persuasive things. Quite a long shot. And, somehow, I didn't want to go there. Even if I were close to Dinn and the heart of action, I knew it would only make me feel more useless.

"Be careful," Father told Mother and me. "Ride steadily, and if there's trouble, obey your escort at all cost."

I glanced at the contingent of soldiers who would be protecting us. I hoped it wouldn't come to danger, but I imagined a slow-moving refugee trail would be a pretty target indeed.

Balancing myself, I leaned down to kiss Father's bald spot, then reached across to touch Grand's hand. He clasped my hand and gave me a firm nod; I'm not sure what it meant, but I tried to make myself feel stronger as I straightened, legging Kiani around. The long column was already moving.

I'd thought Mother and I would be riding at the head, but our bodyguards had us ride near the center. It was strange, riding with Sable's regular citizens, not in any procession, sharing fear. I reined closer to Chaz, trying to keep my voice low. "So what happens if we're attacked?"

He didn't smile; not that that was unusual. "If we're attacked, stay with me, my lady, as always."

I hoped we were sufficiently protected. I knew we had scouts riding ahead of the column, and I assumed we had a rearguard. Single or pairs of riders rode up and down the columns, patrolling, I suppose. I trusted the soldiers. I knew they were well-trained. I couldn't help wishing Dinn were there.

But he had things to do, and so did I. I straightened my spine and lifted my chin. Even if we were refugees, I would not represent my people by looking defeated.

I kept waiting for the countryside to grow lush and green. After an hour, I turned back to Chaz. "We're evacuating, right?"

He blinked, as if wondering whether I was suffering from a brain disease. "Of course, my lady."

"Why aren't we-" I gestured ahead "-moving faster? The wagons are slow, but it's pretty level. We riders could trot."

Someone grunted down the line, and Chaz turned back to look, ascertaining that an assassin hadn't appeared behind me. "By the grace of the Sun, we're well ahead of the Armes. I was told by my lord that we won't have to push the refugees. We should be at Lordlake in good time."

Good time. I should've asked what he meant by that. But I didn't want to feel like a pest.

I should've just gone ahead and felt like a pest. We were evacuating for eleven days.

I had never, _never _slept on the ground before. And don't say I was sleeping on a mat, I was sleeping on the _ground_: I could feel every bump through the mat. I tried to be strong. Soldiers slept like this all the time. Unfortunates slept on the streets without benefit of a blanket. I was relatively safe, protected by a loyal bodyguard, even had a thin pillow and a blanket. I had nothing to complain about.

That of course made it all the worse.

At night, the several large wagons and the picket-lines formed a perimeter around our camp, some of the civilians taking advantage of it, others going their own ways. On Mother's advice, I made my way among the small cook fires, Chaz at my shoulder, asking after the refugees. All of them complained. I smiled (sometimes in front of gritted teeth) and tried to reassure them that we were heading towards safety, the bad conditions wouldn't last forever, and we were making excellent time. After whatever dinner we scraped together (hard tack; until now, it had only been two words _other_ people had to worry about), Mother and I crawled into our tent, Chaz and Rhone, Mother's bodyguard, sleeping outside. I was glad the beginning of the rainy season was still a month away.

Then in the morning, it was up (no sleeping in, not that I wanted to) and into the saddle. For the first time in my life, I got sick of horses, even my sweet Kiani. Periodically, I dismounted and walked, though Chaz advised me not to do it long; if we were attacked, my delayed remounting could cost me my life. I just wanted to move, better yet, stretch my legs into a run. Better yet, curl up on a feather-stuffed mattress. Rubbing an ache in my lower back, I kept my spine straight. I couldn't look as tired as I felt. And I meant that in both senses of the phrase: I couldn't dishearten my people by looking weary; and there was no physical way I could look as bad as I felt.


	58. Chapter 58

58

I glanced at Mother, wondering how much she'd expect of me.

Wherever I had visited in the past, Sol-Falena, Estrise, Lelcar, I'd had a clear reason to be there - to be a guest. Now, as we rode down the sparse grass newly risen around Lordlake, I wondered at this indefinite vacation. Once, I even twisted around in my saddle, looking back, not because I expected to be able to see my city being stormed and captured, but because...I don't know. Father says useless gestures have their place in politics. I find I need a few in my daily life. Looking home made me feel stronger.

Strong enough to look towards Lordlake.

I stood in the stirrups, trying not to be obvious about how I was frowning. "Chaz."

He cleared his throat; it was probably dry from dust. "My lady?"

"I've been to Lordlake before, but I've never really noticed...we haven't been met by a single checkpoint." I glanced at him, but he seemed to be waiting. "And looking there...the wall around the city is very low and very...er..."

"Scattered," Mother supplied from behind me. "The Sun Rune's work, probably."

"Yes. I'm just saying-" and here I lowered my voice "-we're bringing refugees to an indefensible town?"

"Until now," Chaz said, lifting his chin with the pride of a Sable soldier, "Lordlake never had to be defended. Sable took the brunt of the southern attacks."

"Okay, but the line of fire's moving north, and I don't even see sentries up there. Who's guarding this place?"

Mother, myself and our bodyguards rode to the head of the line, and by the time we approached the gates, a total of three people had come to greet us, faces all obscured by the peaked sombreros they'd obviously favored during the years of drought. One figure stepped in front of them, a woman who, by the bulge in her middle, was half a year pregnant.

Mother opened her mouth as though to speak - and nodded to me. I swallowed, scraping together something sufficiently polite and assured. "Hello-" (better skip any references to _The Sun's blessing be upon you_) "-we are Salisha and Melissa Raulbel, come to conduct these refugees from Sable." As if we knew there wasn't any problem but the people _had_ to be humored. "We are inexpressibly grateful to Lordlake's hospitality during this difficult time." Maybe the _inexpressibly_ was a bit much. I wished I could see their faces. The other two, both old men, hung back.

The woman finally tilted her face up, revealing Feitas-blue eyes and lined, dry skin. "Very well then, let yourselves in." She wasn't nasty about it, but she didn't even try for a smile. "We don't have a lot, I'm afraid."

"It won't be a problem." I lifted my voice, and glanced back, as if the whole column could hear me. "We'll do everything possible to keep from being a burden." Not that I had any idea how to do _that_. I wanted, wanted to look at Mother to see if she'd give me any indication of how I was doing, but I didn't. So I raised my hand. I'd seen it work for other people.

It _did_ work. It worked! One of our riders trotted to my side, just like I was Dinn or Father. I relayed the order to the highest ranking soldiers to oversee our entrance into Lordlake - I think I said something about how I didn't want us cluttering the streets - I admit, I was vague, but I did the best I knew and stressed that there would be trouble if any damage to Lordlake was done. I wasn't sure how I'd enforce it so I prayed I wouldn't have to.

We ended up commandeering the old Rovere manor, which the people of Lordlake used as a communal storage house. We shifted what we could, cramming in as many people as possible, the rest foisting themselves on families or kipping on the streets. By the end of the first day, Mother found me sitting by the window in the room we shared with our bodyguards and fifteen others. I was sitting on the sill, the closest thing to elbow room I could get.

Mother looked out at the lake. "They say it was a dust bowl a few months ago."

"It's not as high as it used to be." I hadn't been to Lordlake often before the razing, but I remembered the clear blue lake. Lord Rovere had been a friend of Father's, but his children had all been too young for me to be friends with. The manor's finery existed only in remnants now: a painted ceiling, gouges in door frames that had once been inlaid with mother of pearl. Everything else must have been stolen, probably sold to bring food to the starving citizens. I rubbed my aching forehead. "I'm just glad they've been getting supplies. I hate how much we're imposing on them."

Mother nodded, then tapped my shoulder. "Let's see how everyone's doing."

I glanced towards the other people in the room, but they all seemed too busy to overhear. Still, I lowered my voice. "All the way up here we were doing that. Would taking a break be criminal?"

Mother gave me a hard look. "They're scared and in a new place. If we don't make things easier, there will be trouble."

I'm not sure we made things easier, but we made our rounds. I public spoke throughout, tired, my attention shifting from people's complaints to a hazy, mechanical daydream where I knew when to nod concernedly and when to smile. I mentally shook myself. No. Even if I didn't have the energy to make myself care about their problems, I had to pay attention. I couldn't protect them; paying attention was why I was there.

Sun above, it was hard. Especially when I noticed that Mother had (often) countermanded one of my orders to make things run more smoothly. Sun _above_, why didn't she just do this herself?

I thought being in a town would bring us into contact with the war again, but news was sporadic. Father and Grand had withdrawn from West Tower; in his letter, Grand didn't say where they were, only that Father had to be dragged forcibly away. Estrise's harbor had been taken by Shula Valya of Armes. Doraat was taken by Godwin. The Dawn Army was trapped between two strong enemies, two united enemies. I thought of the long-standing hostility between the Prince and the Godwin family. I thought of the generations of rage between Armes and Falena. I doubted either side would show its prisoners mercy.

"Can't sleep?" Mother whispered when we'd been in Lordlake for almost a week.

I shifted. We were all sleeping about four to a bed, sitting up with our backs against the wall, covers crumpled under our chins. When I didn't answer, Mother put her arm around me and guided my head to her shoulder. There I was, trying to be the strong Raulbel, and she was making me feel like a two year old. She stroked my hair while I slid into sleep.


End file.
